Hetalians vs Jeremy Kyle
by SunbeamsAndSomeBeans
Summary: It's another week on The Jeremy Kyle show, and even the host himself is surprised at the number of disputes between foreigners he'll be settling. Marvel as he attempts to bellow some sense into some very familiar characters. Human names used. Rated T for language and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Hetalia or The Jeremy Kyle Show. For non-British readers, The Jeremy Kyle show is basically like Ricki Lake or Jerry Springer but British, which naturally makes it bleaker. Have a look for it on Youtube and marvel at what us dismal Brits view as entertainment. Actually, I think he's got an American show now, so... y'know. You guys are welcome to him.  
_

_**Prologue**_

"Any interesting stories today, then?"

Jeremy glanced up from the notes he was trying, and failing, to memorise. He was sure he'd read the same sentence about twenty times, and it still wasn't sinking in.

_...repeatedly blamed for his brother's actions..._

Jeremy sighed and pushed his notes away.

"Not really. I've got this one to start off with, standard _boo-fucking-hoo, my brother's an arsehole _fare. Can't even remember the bloke's name"- he glanced at his notes- "Matthew. That's it. Anyway, it'll be the usual. He cries over how his brother's mean to him and how he really wants to build a better relationship between them. His brother comes on, denies everything, and accuses him of being the bad guy. I guarantee one of them'll storm off backstage, and they either decide to never speak to each other again, or Graham tries to get them to pretend they'll at least give things a go."

The make-up girl shrugged. "Boring. Any chance of a punch-up? Getting security involved?"

Jeremy shook his head. "No. I haven't met whatshisname, but the research team reckon he's a bit of a wet blanket. No idea what he's doing on the show, to be honest. His brother had better be an absolute prick. About the most interesting thing about them is the fact that they're American."

The make-up girl- Sarah? Was that it?- finished her work and removed the paper bib protecing Jeremy's suit. "American? That'll be some sort of record in terms of number of teeth on your guests."

Jeremy grinned. "Ha bloody ha. It's strange, really, it seems to be Mediate Between Foreigners Week or something. Out of all the guests on my next few show, apparently only one of them is actually British. It's going to be like a more civilised version of a UN meeting."

Sarah gave a well-practised titter. "Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks." Jeremy got up, taking care to give her behind a firm squeeze. "See you for my touch-up, Sarah."

He left the room.

"It's Sierra." muttered the make-up girl.


	2. My Brother Is Making My Life Unbearable

_**Chapter 1: "My Brother Is Making My Life Unbearable"**_

Three... two... one. The audience's applause trailed off. They were the usual suspects; viewers of the show who viewed this as an extravagant outing, the highlight of their year, people who had been dragged along for shits and giggles, and students there for the irony value. Jeremy looked into camera 1 and began, barely needing to look at the auto cue.

"Good morning, and welcome to the show. My first guest today is deeply concerned about how his brother's choices are affecting both his life and their relationship. He claims that, not only does his brother expect him to take the blame for his decisions, but shows disregard towards his feelings to the extent that he frequently pretends not to even notice him."

The audience made a sort of collective sympathetic droning noise. Jeremy paused, then continued. "He says that he'd like to develop a better relationship with his brother, but doesn't want resentment to get in the way. So without further ado, let's give a warm welcome to Michael- I mean, Matthew."

The audience obediently broke into applause. This went on for a good ten seconds longer than it should have as Jeremy frantically wondered where his guest was. Mentally storing a list of expletives to bellow at the backstage team later, he nervously added "Matthew, everyone!"

The awkward applause continued almost long enough to drown out a timid "...I'm right here."

Jeremy spun around in shock, to see possibly the most nondescript-looking young man he'd ever encountered sat hunched over in one of the chairs. His face was mostly obscured by a combination of chin-length blond hair, glasses, and the head of the soft toy polar bear that he was clutching to his chest. In fact, the bear was probably more memorable than he was. And his guest was a grown male who carried that thing around. Jeremy grit his teeth and forced a smile.

"Sorry about that. Now, Matthew, I understand you're here to confront your brother Alfred over his recent behaviour."

"It's not really recent" Matthew mumbled, his gaze darting from Jeremy, to the security guards, to the audience.

Jeremy frowned. "Sorry Matthew, you're going to have to speak up a little. Maybe... move the bear?" He was still at a loss as to why any adult would bring a soft toy along to an opportunity to assert himself.

"Sorry". Matthew placed the bear on the floor between his feet and sat up. "It's just... well, it's always been like this. It's just been worse recently."

"Right. Now, would you like to tell us exactly what he's been doing to bring it to this?"

Matthew seemed to retreat into himself, resembling a wig balanced on top of a pile of clothes.

"Ummm... well, it's more what he doesn't do..."

Jeremy's patience was wearing thin.

"Matthew, you have an opportunity here to show your brother that you're a strong young man who is capable of defending himself. Mumbling into your hoodie isn't going to convey that very well, is it?"

"Well..." Matthew looked like he was going to cry. Jeremy felt distinctly uncomfortable. Was there something wrong with him? The research team would have told him, surely? It wasn't exploiting the vulnerable that was the issue, that was the basis of around 90% of his output. But there were limits. His show had already been described as "human bear-baiting", he didn't need the negative press associated with essentially bullying someone who could possibly have some sort of developmental disorder.

Luckily, a balding man in the audience came to the rescue by shouting "Oi mate, while we're young!"

This proved effective. Matthew's head snapped up, a sudden look of fury forcing his mouth into a straight line. His fists were clenched tight enough to collapse in on themselves, and his breath came in short bursts through his nose. Jeremy glanced at the security guards, neither of whom appeared to be paying attention. He made a mental note to hide behind the obese woman in sweatpants in the front row if Matthew started flinging chairs around.

Instead, Matthew opened his mouth, and out gushed a torrent of pent-up fury.

"He's a total JERK. He's loud and obnoxious and the neighbours all hate him. He held a barbeque last forth of July and set our neighbour Carlos' tree on fire, then blamed me. He plays Bruce Springsteen on full volume constantly, even at two in the morning on a work night. He keeps calling Mr Hassan in the corner shop "Apu" and saying "Thankyou, come again" in a really bad Indian accent. Mr Hassan's not even Indian! His Christmas tree had so many lights that it caused a power surge for the whole street. When Katyusha from number thirty five asked what was going on, he called her a communist while staring at her... um... breasts. He dragged our sofa out onto the front lawn so he could drink beer and check for signs of villainy, then left it there when it started raining. He's never taken out the trash. He said he did once, but it turned out that was just his way of saying that he got in a fight with my friend Gilbert in the local bar. He makes fun of me because my Mom was Canadian and says I hump moose... mooses... meese? Anyway, I don't! And because we look sort of similar, I get the blame for all this! I can't walk down the street without someone being all "Hey, Alfred you dick, turn down your music!" or "Alfred, my brother's going to kick the crap out of you!" And I tried to tell him about it and ask him to stop, and he waved a chainsaw in my face! A chainsaw? Who does that? And yesterday, I went to get some maple syrup for my pancakes, and it was all gone! HE WAS DIPPING MCNUGGETS IN IT!"

Exhausted by his rant, Matthew grabbed his toy bear and buried his face in it. Jeremy was ecstatic. When the show went out, he just knew that his speech would be accompanied by footage of a furious Alfred backstage.

"So Matthew, what are you hoping to get out of today?"

Matthew sniffed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. "Just... just for him to listen to me. And stop being an asshole to our neighbours. And maybe stop tying Kumakiki to the front of his truck. His fur gets stained." He gestured to the bear. Jeremy straightened up and addressed the camera. "Please join us after the break, when we'll be meeting Matthew's brother Alfred, and hearing his side of the story."

Three, two, one...

The stage manager gave Jeremy the thumbs up. Jeremy relaxed, and turned on his heel to go for his touch-up.

"Um... Mr Kyle?"

He felt a small tug on his sleeve. Yanking his arm back in disgust, assuming it was one of those plebian mutants from the audience, he suddenly realised that it was Matthew. He sighed. If he got stuck talking to the mumbling oddball, he'd have no time for his usual latte and brief groping of Sarah the make-up girl.

"What is it, Matthew?"

Matthew blushed. "You... you don't think I was too hard on him, do you?"

"Not at all, Matthew. I mean, we'll have to see what Alfred has to say about your little outburst, but-"

"HE HEARD THAT?!" Matthew flopped into the chair, fists balled in his hair, and started hyperventilating. Jeremy cleared his throat, unsure about where to look.

"Look, Matthew, you want to become more assertive, don't you?"

The only response was a sort of panicked wheezing. Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, and walked away. "Settle him down, will you?" he murmured to an exhausted-looking runner, and headed off for his touch-up.

When he came back, Matthew was looking slightly more calm, possibly due to the runner gushing over how cute his toy bear was.

"Oh my God, I LOVE polar bears!" she squealed. "What's his name?"

Matthew smiled shyly and clutched him closer. "Kumachino".

"Well, he's proper cute, you should get him a little outfit or something. Maybe a hoodie like yours?"

"Thanks Leanne, we're about to start filming again." The runner didn't even look up.

"I adopted a polar bear once! I mean, I couldn't take it home and raise it as my own, that'd be weird and I don't reckon you can toilet train a polar bear, but I give the zoo some money, and I get my name on a plaque!"

"That's really nice of you. And Kumadido appreciates it too." Matthew lifted the bear up to her face and made it kiss her. She giggled. "Look, I know you'll want to talk to your brother for a bit after we're done filming, but I've seen your file, and I don't live that far from you, and I-"

"Thanks Leanne, we have to get on now." Jeremy grasped her shoulder and practically dragged her to her feet. Her face fell, and she started to walk away.

"I'll find you after we're done!" Matthew called after her.

Jeremy patted his shoulder. "See? Already you're more assertive. 'Course, Leanne gets around a bit, but-"

"Leah. Her name's Leah."

"Well, anyway. We're about to start filming again, so if you'd like to hold onto this new-found confidence, hopefully we'll be able to sort things out between you and your brother, alright?"

Matthew paled and gulped, suddenly finding his knees very interesting.

"Matthew, come on. You can do this."

He smiled. "Yeah, I can."

"Good. I'm sure Alfred's had a chance to calm down and think things through, so just relax and be honest, OK?"

Matthew nodded, oblivious to the fact that, backstage, Alfred had been played a tape of Matthew's raging discontent at least five times, and was still seething. Jeremy assumed his position, and waited for the cued audience applause to end.

"Good morning! Now, before the break, we were talking to Matthew, who says that his brother Alfred is making his life miserable, blaming him for his mistakes, and even ignoring him when he tries to talk to him."

The audience resumed their sympathetic mooing noise.

"Now obviously, we need both sides of the story, so let's give a welcome to Matthew's brother, Alfred!"

A tall boy who did look very similar to Matthew, albeit with shorter hair and a notable lack of obvious self-loathing stormed onto the stage. The audience immediately started booing. Alfred stopped, and indignantly turned to the people before him.

"Guys, what the hell? You don't know me!"

Jeremy smiled. All par for the course.

"Alfred, please take a seat."

"I'll take a seat when those douchebags shut up! Look at that fat chick in the sweatpants! Like she can judge me! She looks like she should be scooting around Wal-Mart back home-"

"Alfred, that's not why we're here." Jeremy put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to the seat. Alfred sat down with unnecessary vigour and glared at his brother.

"Mattie, what was that? All this crap about how awful I am to live with? Come on dude, you're my brother! You're supposed to look out for me."

Matthew had clammed up again, clinging to that stupid toy bear and trembling slightly. Jeremy straightened his tie. Time for the usual.

"And why should he be the one looking out for you? From what I've heard, my friend, you're the cause of most of his problems!"

Alfred looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"What? Dude, I-"

"I'm not your DUDE, Alfred!" the host thundered, causing Matthew to flinch. "Now, why don't you explain why you're incapable of thinking of anyone but yourself?"

Alfred glared at him. "I'm not incapable! It's just that most of my neighbours are boring, and don't appreciate my Hero Watch-"

"Your what?"

"Hero Watch. I sit in the front yard, scanning the skies for criminal activity."

Matthew lowered his toy bear. "That was the sofa incident."

"Oh come on man, so the sofa got a little damp. Who cares? Someone's gotta keep an eye on things!"

"YOU DIDN'T KEEP AN EYE ON ANYTHING! YOU JUST DRANK BEER AND CATCALLED KATYUSHA WHEN SHE WENT TO BRING HER WHEELIE BINS IN!" Most of the audience cringed. Matthew's yelling was nothing if not shrill.

Alfred looked dumbstruck. "Dude, come on, it's not like I try to piss you off, it's just so easy! And you've seen that girl's boobs, they're impossible NOT to look at!" His eyes narrowed. Two could play this game. He was unemployed, he'd seen this show before.

"Anyway, it's not like you're perfect, you lazy ass. You work, what, twelve hours a week cleaning that office? And then you come home and get baked with that Dutch asshole and watch Man vs Food for hours!"

Jeremy's ears pricked up. "Baked?"

"Yeah. Stoned off his ass. Three days ago, those two pricks ate an entire pack of MY Pop Tarts!"

Jeremy tried to hide his inner glee, and adopted his sternest facial expression as he turned to Matthew.

"Well." The silence hung in the air as thickly as the smoke that Matthew allegedly produced after work. "You act like the victim, complaining about your brother, and yet you sit there consuming illegal drugs?"

Matthew shifted in his seat. "I..."

"Speak up!

"I DON'T THINK THAT'S WHY WE'RE HERE!" The audience once again shifted uncomfortably in their seats at Matthew's yelping. Matthew took advantage of the resulting silence.

"OK, so I have been known to smoke pot. But my pot smoking doesn't result in Alfred getting beaten up-"

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Maybe not, but here's an idea, instead of sitting around, digging for sympathy, you GROW A PAIR, GET A JOB, AND STOP TAKING DRUGS!"

The audience momentarily woke up due to the sudden loud noise, and, unsure as to what to do next, applauded.

"But... I DO have a job" Matthew mumbled meekly.

Jeremy glared at Alfred. "And don't think you're off the hook either."

Alfred glowered at the floor.

"What exactly do you do?"

Alfred mumbled something. Jeremy shoved the microphone as close to his face as he could get without forcing the American to swallow it, and repeated the question.

"I haven't found a job yet."

"Well, maybe if you got off your arse and _looked_ for work-"

"Hey!"

Jeremy looked surprised as Matthew got to his feet.

"He _is_ looking for work. He tries really hard, actually. There's just not a lot around at the moment. He has a degree in Archaeology, you know."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. This idiot with the ripped jeans had an education?

Matthew took a deep breath and continued. "Yeah, he's an asshole. And I have to suffer because of that. But we didn't come here to discuss whether or not we were employed, or what we do to chill out. We came here because I wanted some help getting through to him."

Jeremy was stunned into silence at the sight of his guest asserting himself in the least camera-friendly way he could imagine. Meanwhile, Alfred stood up, walked over to his brother, and slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah. I need to listen to Mattie more, I get that. And... maybe dial it back a little when I talk to our neighbours. But I could have figured that out without you being here. You're a jerk, man. You don't care if people solve their problems, you just want to feel important by yelling at them. And that's way less productive than Hero Watch. So... um... suck it. I guess. C'mon Mattie."

Matthew smiled and waved politely at the audience, beckoned Leah the runner, and followed his brother offstage. The cameramen followed them but both brothers kept quiet the entire time. Jeremy merely pursed his lips and stalked off to the make-up room.

_Later..._

"So, think we can scrape enough footage together?" asked Sarah the make-up girl as she patted yet more powder under Jeremy's eyes.

"I don't know why you say _we_, Sarah, you have nothing to do with it" the host snapped. The brothers had made him look like a waste of space in front of a whole audience. An audience of morons, maybe, but those morons practically paid his salary.

The girl removed the paper bib and gave a sarcastic curtsey. "My work is done, my Lord."

Jeremy sighed. "Look, it's been a hard morning. And I'm sure we'll get some footage of them storming off and play it just after they were arguing. It'll be fine. Problem is, now I've got to deal with my next guests. If they're anywhere near as awful as that teddy-hugging stoner cretin and his gobby brother, I'm handing in my bloody notice. So forgive me, Sarah, if I'm not in the best of moods today."

He stood up, and marched out of the room. The make-up girl smiled at the fact that she'd deliberately made him look slightly more orange than she ordinarily would have done.

"It's still Sierra, prick." She muttered.


	3. Prove To Me You Didn't Sleep With Him

_I don't own Hetalia, because I lack the creativity and artistic skills, and I don't own The Jeremy Kyle Show because I have a soul.  
_

_In other news, thanks for the reviews, favourites, and follows so far folks. Much appreciated. This is actually my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction, but that's no excuse for sloppy writing, so by all means, constructive feedback is appreciated, even if it IS for some idiotic gubbins like this. _

_**Chapter 2: "Prove To Me That You Didn't Sleep With Him!"**_

"What's going on next, then?"

Jeremy glared at Sarah the make-up girl. "Hopefully, I'll be able to do my show without being sent back here because I look like Jodie sodding Marsh. How did you manage to make me only look orange on camera, anyway?"

"I didn't do it on purpose" Sarah said nonchalantly. "I must have been distracted."

"Well, keep your bloody head together. I've got another lie detector result next."

"Anything good?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Could be. More foreigners. Some sort of love triangle. Bloke thinks his wife's cheating on him with her friend. Research team reckons the husband's almost as wet as that freak with the teddy bear we just had on, but the friend's apparently enough of an arsehole to make up for it."

"So is she?"

"What, an arsehole? No idea. One of the runners mentioned she was easy on the eye, mind. That'll be a fucking first on that stage, won't it?"

"No, I mean, has she been cheating?"

"How would I know? You've seen me up there, I only open the envelope when it's handed to me."

Sarah snorted. "Don't make me laugh, I know they tell you before the show."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Fine, yes, they do tell me. But I'm not telling you. You'll just have to see."

He removed the paper bib, drained the last of his latte, and stood up.

"Well, good luck, anyway. Hopefully they'll be better than the last lot."

Jeremy inwardly cringed. Those Americans had made him look like an idiot. He was hoping that the producers could think of some way of getting the audience to keep their mouths shut. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the shame of everyone knowing that he'd been bawled out by an unemployed beer-swilling self-proclaimed hero and a mumbling stoner who carried a soft toy around with him.

The audience were just settling down when he came back. A few were still smirking slightly. "Looking less orange now Jezza!" called out one little shit with an earring in the back row. Jeremy forced a jovial laugh, secretly yearning to have security beat him to death with a chair.

The stage manager held three fingers in the air.

...two

...one.

"Welcome back. We've just seen what happens when conflict in the family is allowed to destroy relationships, but our next guest is very worried about his relationship with his _wife_. He says that he thinks her friendship with her best friend is inappropriate and has reason to suspect that she may have slept with him since they got married."

A hushed ripple of disapproving noises washed through the audience. Jeremy continued.

"So, in order to find out the truth, let's welcome Roderich to the show."

As the audience broke into applause, a well-groomed young man in a suit walked on. Jeremy was amazed. He'd never had a guest who'd worn a suit before. He suspected that, if his usual calibre of guest even owned a suit, it would generally be reserved for court appearances. This young man, however, was immaculately turned out, save for one stray hair that stuck out from his head. He was one of those people with a perpetual look of disapproval etched across their features (although that could have been due to facing the audience; the obese sweatpants-clad woman in the front row now had what looked suspiciously like mayonnaise on her chin). The man took a seat, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"Roderich, welcome to the show."

"Thank you for having me, sir" said Roderich. _What was that accent? Sort of like very clipped German?_

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, unused to being addressed in a manner that was neither grotesquely over-familiar, no abusive.

"Just Jeremy's fine. Now, you and Elizaveta have been married for how long?"

"Two years, Jeremy."

"And did things start off well?"

Roderich sighed. "I think it's best that I start from the beginning."

"Oi mate! Nice suit!" Jeremy's head whipped around in fury. It was the same shit with the earring who had addressed him earlier. With a nod to security, the oik was escorted out. His parting remark of "-fucking stuck up wanker!" still ringing in the air, Roderich began.

"Well, we've had our rocky patches, but nothing that the average couple wouldn't be able to deal with. She was rather wild when we first met-"

"Wild?" An image started to form in Jeremy's mind of this promiscuous, cuckolding young woman. Probably drank heavily. He could see it now, skirt ending just below her arse, hanging off any man to pay her attention. She should be grateful to this nice, polite young man for giving her a chance. Absolutely.

Roderich's voice jerked him back to reality.

"Well, she wasn't a bad person or anything. She just has a rather short temper, and she worries about me. The area we live in, it's rather... well, some of the residents can be uncouth, to put it politely. We met when I moved there after my father's business failed, and some of the locals seemed to take some issue with me."

"That must have been a lot to get used to" Jeremy interjected, hoping to speed the story up so he could find out just how awful this girl was.

"Well, yes. Actually, we met when her friend was needlessly aggressive to me outside the local newsagents."

Jeremy perked up. "Aggressive how?"

"Well..." Roderich looked uncomfortable. "It's probably nothing, but he called me Specs, practically demanded 10p off me on the basis that I was wearing a suit and therefore must have money, then started shouting at me when I declined. Elizaveta came out of the shop just as he was shouting in my face, and she slapped him around the back of the head and told him to stop. He seemed to listen to her."

"Well, surely that's a good thing?" asked Jeremy. "Even when she didn't know you, she still defended you against her friend, doesn't that count for anything?"

Roderich nodded. "Of course. In fact, she saw me in town a few days later, and came over to apologise for him. She...er... has to do that a lot, it turns out. Anyway, there was a nice little bakery nearby, and I asked if she'd like to get something to eat there, my treat, as a token of my appreciation. And it went from there, I suppose. After six months, I proposed." He smiled. "I had a new job tuning pianos, but hadn't saved up enough for a real ring, so I had to use one of those gummy Haribo ones."

There were a few scattered "Aw" sounds from the audience. Jeremy turned back to his guest.

"So, what's the problem? It sounds like she loves you, she sticks up for you against other men, for God's sake!"

Roderich cleared his throat. "Well, the problem is, Jeremy, that she does spend a lot of time with Gilbert."

"Gilbert being Elizaveta's friend", Jeremy explained to the audience.

"Yes. They go drinking together, they take the same martial arts classes, and they seem to have some odd ideas about what constitutes appropriate physical boundaries."

"Such as?"

"Well, they're always play-fighting. Rolling around on the floor together, that kind of thing."

"I see. So you have no other reasons besides their close friendship, to believe that Elizaveta has cheated on you?"

Roderich sighed. "Well, that's not quite all."

Jeremy nodded, conscious of the time. "Well, we've heard your side of the story, let's get Elizaveta on."

The audience broke into applause and a few wolf whistles as a pretty young woman with long brown hair took to the stage. Jeremy noticed her clean, knee-length dress and polished shoes, her sweet, if slightly unnerved, smile. She was nothing like the usual ne'er-do-wells that he encountered, but he'd have to wait and see how long it took her to start screaming at another guest.

"Hi Elizaveta, thanks for being on the show." Jeremy fought the urge to glance at her chest, acutely aware of the cameras.

"Now, we've just heard Roderich's version of events, and some of the reasons he suspects you of cheating. Anything to say to that?"

Elizaveta nodded. "I don't-"

"Say it to him, sweetheart."

She turned to face her husband and sighed. "Roddy, I don't understand why it's come to this. I said I'd do anything to put your mind at ease, and I mean it, but I just don't see why you can't trust me. Gilbert's my friend-"

"That's what it comes down to, isn't it love?" asked Jeremy. "How long have you known Gilbert?"

"Well, I met him at school. I moved here from Budapest when I was 14, and some of the people at school were jerks. He used to tease me, then one day I lost my temper and punched him, and then we became friends." She smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the fact that most friendships are not formed through violent assault.

"You punched him, and so you're friends?" Jeremy was incredulous. He could understand this if she didn't seem like such a nice girl.

"Of course. It was that, or be enemies, and I'm not interested in making enemies."

Perfect. Something to latch onto.

"Well, you say that, _love_, but it's hard to believe that when both you and your husband mention that you seem to get into fights every five minutes!"

The audience broke into applause, having waited long enough to hear a guest being admonished. Elizaveta blushed and looked distinctly annoyed.

"I don't get into fights that often. It's just that some people in our area, after a few drinks, get very rowdy, and want to fight people. And Roddy...well..." she gestured vaguely to Roderich, currently inspecting his fingernails and visibly regretting choosing this course of action. "He doesn't quite fit in. So sometimes I step in."

A man in the audience put his hand up. Jeremy pointed to him. "Yes, we've got a question over here-"

An assistant lowered a microphone near the man's head. "Yeah, mate, don't you think it's a bit pathetic letting your Mrs fight your battles? You want to man up, mate."

The audience broke into applause. Roderich surveyed them with distaste.

"Actually, I usually try to dissuade her from fighting my battles-"

"But walking away doesn't always work with these people!" protested Elizaveta. "Can't we just read out the lie detector results?"

Jeremy gave a shark-like grin. "Whose show is this?" he asked the brunette. She looked confused.

"Yours."

"Exactly. We'll get to the results in time. Now, Roderich, I get the feeling that this isn't all there is to this story. Why, exactly, do you think your wife has been sleeping with her friend?"

Roderich took a deep breath. "Well, the way she looks at him-"

"I mean, actual, concrete evidence."

"SHE'S DRAWN NAKED PICTURES OF HIM!"

Roderich's hand flew to his mouth as he realised that he'd just blurted out the secret that had been gnawing at him for months now. Elizaveta's mouth was hanging open in shock. In the silence, a loud, piercing laugh echoed backstage.

"She VHAT?"

"Well, the plot thickens, doesn't it, _madam_?" Jeremy smiled at the stunned girl, then addressed the cameras.

"Join us after the break when we'll be hearing from Elizaveta's friend Gilbert, getting to the bottom of this nude picture problem, and reading out those all-important lie detector results."

After the sign from the stage manager, one of the backstage team sprinted over to Elizaveta and started leading her away from the stage, officially to have her make-up touched up, but really to stop her from talking to her husband before filming had recommenced. Jeremy strolled over to Leanne-the-runner and grabbed the latte from her hand. "Thanks Leanne."

"Leah."

"Right. Glad to see you're still here and not following Teddy Bear Boy from earlier."

She beamed. "Actually, I'm seeing him tonight. We're going for a drink at The Maple Tree, then we're going back to his to watch-"

"Then you're going back to his to snort some pot and have underwhelming sex while his idiot brother pretends to be a superhero, I know." Jeremy interrupted.

"You don't snort-"

"I don't care."

Leanne/Leah stuck her nose in the air and stormed off. She patted a returning Elizaveta on the shoulder and stalked off backstage. Jeremy sighed and assumed his position.

Three...

two...

one.

"Welcome back. We've been talking to Roderich, who believes that his wife Elizaveta is cheating on him with her best friend Gilbert. He says that not only do they spend all their time together, but he's even found some rather risqué drawings by Elizaveta featuring Gilbert."

The audience tittered in amusement.

"As he's being accused of sleeping with Roderich's wife, it's only right that we give Gilbert a say. So let's give him a big welcome."

The audience applauded as slim-built man with white-blond hair almost sprinted onto the stage, got Elizaveta in a headlock, and rubbed his knuckles across the top of her head.

"Gil, let me go, you deutschebag!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! You draw naked pictures of me? Vhell, I can't blame you, everyvon would vhant to draw mein awesome appendage-"

"Shut up Gil!"

Security started moving towards the man. He released his friend with a grin, dragged a chair over, and sat down.

"Hi Jeremy! I'm a big fan of your vherk and those trampy women you keep dragging on here. I have awesome taste in women myself, but there's no shame in going for the easy-"

"Gilbert." Jeremy already felt the overwhelming urge to choke slam the boisterous German. "Welcome to the show. Now, you've heard what's been said so far-"

"KESESESESE! Jah, I heard, how could I not? Mostly how Liz does portraits of my vheiner thingy of course, und how Specs gets beaten up for being so un-awesome... Hi Specs! Had your crappenhole kicked lately or has Liz been defending you so you don't chip a nail?"

Roderich looked like he was trying to meld with the chair he was sat in.

"Oh, I'm sorry Gilbert, are you finished? Are you sure this isn't your show?" Jeremy enquired coldly.

"Nein, it's not, but it should be! That vhould be-"

"Awesome, yes. Now, what do you have to say to these accusations?"

Gilbert giggled loudly. "Nein. Of course, the awesome me vhould be able to bed this fine tittenfrau in a heartbeat-"

"No you wouldn't." Elizaveta abruptly snapped. Gilbert shrugged.

"Vhell, your sketchbook says otherwise! Bet you haven't drawn Specs in the nude, heh? You jealous, Specs?"

Roderich clutched the arms of his chair. "No."

"Seriously?"

"I don't envy you. You are not a man. You are a silly little boy who sits around his brother's house all day, buying beer with his wages and pleasuring yourself into a sock."

A ripple of sniggers passed through the audience. Jeremy tried to gain control of the situation.

"Actually, we have Gilbert's brother Ludwig in the audience, can we get a microphone on Ludwig please?"

A blond man with his face in his hands who looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him up had a microphone unceremoniously shoved in his face. Jeremy bounded over to him.

"Ludwig, Gilbert lives in your house, correct?"

The man nodded. "Jah. He currently occupies two thirds of my sofa."

Jeremy frowned. "Doesn't he work?"

"Nein. He briefly had a job cleaning some offices, but declared himself too awesome for it and threw the vacuum cleaner out of a window."

Jeremy turned to Roderich in amusement. "This is what you're so worried about?" He moved his gaze to Gilbert. "And you. You need to get off your backside and find some work, mate."

More rapturous applause from the audience. Jeremy suspected that some of them could be entertained for hours with a compilation of him berating the unemployed.

"Thanks Ludwig. Now, time for those all-important lie detector test results."

He was handed an envelope. Of course he already knew what the results were. He also knew that these things were, what, 60% accurate at best? But he was willing to bet that neither the audience nor his guests did.

"Roderich."

The man was chewing his lower lip, thumbs rubbing against each other with enough friction to make them burst into flames. Elizaveta gave him a reproachful look, but then reached over to hold his hand. Gilbert grabbed her other hand, but she yanked it back and slapped him over the head.

"We asked Elizaveta if she has slept with Gilbert in all the time you two have been together. She said no. Do you know why?"

Roderich stared at the floor, sweat beading on his forehead.

"BECAUSE SHE WAS TELLING THE TRUTH!"

Roderich slumped down in the chair, wiping his forehead with a lace handkerchief in his free hand.

"We asked Elizaveta if she'd ever engaged in any form of sexual contact with Gilbert in the time that you had been together, and she said no. And guess what? She was telling the truth."

"I told you, Roddy" said Elizaveta softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I'm sorry" he mouthed at her.

"Finally, we asked Elizaveta if she had any non-platonic feelings for Gilbert whatsoever."

Elizaveta suddenly turned an interesting shade of green.

"She said no. And guess what?"

Jeremy advanced on the girl in full "judgemental wrath" mode.

"You, _love_, are a dirty. Little. Liar."

The collective gasp from the audience could arguably have sucked the guests off their chairs. Roderich looked at his wife in dismay. Gilbert, meanwhile punched the air in triumph.

"Hah! I knew it! No woman can resist my awesome pants-wurst!"

Elizaveta grabbed Roderich's wrists. "It's not like that, they don't understand-"

"Sit down." Jeremy guided her back to her seat. "So. You may not have actually cheated, but you would ideally choose this one here" he jerked a thumb towards a still-celebrating Gilbert "over your husband? Is that why you're happy to draw naked pictures of your friend?"

Elizaveta stood up and retrieved a folded up piece of paper from her pocket.

"You've got it wrong."

"Oh? It looks pretty damn clear to me, sweetheart." sneered Jeremy.

The girl unfolded the piece of paper. "Roddy, you clearly only saw one picture. Jeremy, I don't want to choose Gil over my husband either. I... I've drawn a lot of these pictures. Some of them are of Roddy, some of them are of Gil. But most of them..." she unfolded the paper and held it aloft.

"...yeah. Most of them are of both. Together."

The silence was eventually broken all at once.

"That's bloody disgusting!" yelled a man in the audience.

"KESESESE- vhat? Me und Specs? SERIOUSLY?!" shrieked Gilbert.

Roderich just took the paper off his wife and stared at the immensely detailed drawings of himself and Gilbert. There were pictures of him kissing Gilbert, one of Gilbert on his knees in front of him, several of them... well, "making love" wasn't really the right term, but some sort of penetration was occuring, always coming from Roderich.

Jeremy, meanwhile, didn't know what to do. He gave a baffled look to the stage manager, who just shrugged. He addressed the audience, trying to ignore the fact that they were craning their necks, trying to see more of Elizaveta's artwork.

"Well, that's all we've got time for today. Now that that's been cleared up, our aftercare team will be able to help our guests. Join us tomorrow, when we'll be giving two of our guests some very important DNA test results."

The stage manager gave the signal. Jeremy stormed over to Elizaveta.

"Congratulations. I could have helped you, but all you've done is make your husband and your friend feel very uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable." Gilbert piped up. "I'll go on top though. Mein pants-wurst is too awesome to be contained."

Roderich shook his head, still apparently in shock. "Elizaveta? Can we go home and discuss this please?" His wife smiled gently. "Of course."

Jeremy watched, aghast, as the two walked off hand-in-hand, as though they'd merely been to the cinema, or for a pub lunch. Just before they disappeared off stage, Roderich turned around.

"Gilbert."

The German glanced up at him. "Jah?"

"This involves you too, you know. Are you coming or not?"

_Later..._

"So" said Sarah the make-up girl; "How are you finding the foreigners? More or less mental than your usual guests?"

Jeremy groaned and rubbed his temples.

"Better dental work. But definitely just as mental."


	4. If You're Really My Brother, Prove It!

_I do not own Hetalia, Jeremy Kyle, a pair of matching socks, or a Scrooge McDuck-style pool filled with coins.  
_

_**Chapter 3: "If You're Really My Brother, Prove It!"**_

Jeremy wished he had the option of calling in sick.

The previous day had been nothing but a disaster, starting with the American brothers who inexplicably refused his help and stormed off, and continuing with a perverted Hungarian and less-than-pure thoughts about her husband and her best friend. The producers were still trying to scrape together enough footage to fill out the show without making him look completely inept.

Today, at least, was a DNA test result. Those were usually fairly easy. Granted, they were generally for someone accusing the mother of his child of cheating and refusing to pay child support until he was shown proof otherwise, mind. These results, however, would reveal if his guests were brothers.

"Reckon it'll go any better today?"

Jeremy scowled. He didn't appreciate Sarah the make-up girl's tone. Didn't she respect him at one point? There were a million of these airheaded sponge jockeys in the world, how hard would it really be to replace her? He made a mental note to talk to the producers later.

"Hopefully. Today we're dealing with a bunch of Scandinavians, so at least the worst they'll do is a bit of raping and pillaging. After those lunatics yesterday, that'd be mild by comparison. It's another neglectful brother thing, only this time the younger one's not sure if they're even related. So it'll be a combination of bollocking the older one for not being around much and seeing if they're even blood related."

"How you going to pad that out then?" asked Sarah. Unlike with lie detector results, there wasn't much room for getting stories straight before the results with DNA tests.

"Oh, the usual. Got a few of their family to throw their opinions into the mix. Research reckon they're an interesting bunch. Apparently one of them's as big a cretin as that German layabout yesterday."

"About that. Think he and the posh guy... y'know?" Sarah grinned. Jeremy merely shuddered.

"I'd rather not think about it. Anyway, showtime, see you for my touch-up, the usual. By the way, your arse looks amazing in those jeans."

And with that, he left.

Three, two, one.

"Good morning and welcome to the show, everyone. Now, today we're going to be dealing with abandonment by the very people who are meant to be looking out for you; your family. Our first guest says that he hasn't been particularly close to his brother Lukas since he was a child, and, after being separated growing up, they recently met again, only for him to have his suspicions as to whether they're even related."

The obligatory murmuring from the audience.

"He says that, if Lukas does turn out to be his brother, he would like to build a relationship with him, but if he isn't, he's unsure if they'll stay in touch. Ladies and gentlemen, let's please welcome Emil."

The audience politely applauded as a sullen boy in his late teens walked onto the stage. A couple of women near the back who had spent their morning cackling and sharing a bottle of what Jeremy hoped was just Diet Coke (but suspected was something else) started singing "These Boots Are Made For Walking". Jeremy nodded to security, who walked over to settle them down, and glanced at his guest. He had pale blond hair, almost as pale as that German halfwit yesterday, and inexplicably wore white, knee-length lace-up boots. He sat down, glancing defensively around the audience.

"Welcome, Emil. Thanks for being on the show." Jeremy went to shake his hand. The boy's hands were freezing.

"Now, before we hear from Lukas, would you like to tell us a bit about your upbringing together?"

Looking at the ground, Emil began.

"Well, we weren't really raised together. Our mother died when we were really small, and we lived with our Uncle Mathias at first. But he and Lukas didn't get on, and Lukas left to live with our Uncle Berwald in Sweden. Mathias and I moved over here a few years later, and Lukas, Berwald and his wife recently moved too. That's how we got back in touch."

Jeremy nodded. "It must have been quite a shock to see him again."

"Not really. I knew he'd moved, I just didn't know he still wanted to see me. He didn't call after he left. I mean, we'd get Christmas cards, but-"

"- but you still felt abandoned by him" Jeremy interjected. Emil nodded, frowning.

"I just don't understand why he'd leave and not bother writing or emailing or anything. That's kind of why I don't know if we're related. I mean, what if I was, like... adopted, and he never told me? Mama's not around to tell me, and she hadn't seen my uncles in years. Is that why he was so happy to ditch me?"

Jeremy turned to the audience.

"Well, we've heard Emil's side of the story, now it's time to hear from the man who could well be his brother. Let's have a round of applause for Lukas."

Aside from the occasional unsure clap, the audience mostly booed as a slim man with ash-blond hair walked onto the stage. Like the bespectacled man yesterday, he seemed better turned-out than most of Jeremy's guests, wearing a striped shirt with a red tie. Oddly, he appeared to be wearing a cross-shaped clip in his hair. Jeremy waited for the booing to stop before addressing the surprisingly unconcerned-looking man.

"Lukas, thanks for being on the show. Now, we've just heard Emil's version of events, and I think the main question people are asking is why you just abandoned your younger brother?"

Lukas remained calm. "Actually, I think the question is whether we're related or not."

Jeremy slammed his hand down on the arm of Lukas' chair. "How about first, you explain to your LITTLE BROTHER how you could just go swanning off to Sweden and not even get in touch?"

Emil already looked like he was regretting this course of action. Lukas turned to him. "Come on, now. You know why."

"Clearly I don't, or we wouldn't be here."

"You were happy with Mathias. I wasn't. You were so young when I left, I thought maybe you could just move on. And I did send you postcards. Not as often as I should, but-"

"That's your excuse?" demanded Jeremy. "You sent a few postcards? From the sounds of things, my friend, you just couldn't be bothered. You just swanned off to Sweden, and as long as you were alright, you didn't give a monkey's about Emil and how he was coping."

The audience burst into rapturous applause. Lukas remained infuriatingly calm. Jeremy grit his teeth as the Norwegian continued.

"It goes both ways. Emil had my address, he could have got in touch. I didn't want to interfere with his life."

"I thought you didn't want to hear from me!" protested Emil.

"And what's this skit about you being adopted? I remember the night Mama brought you home from the hospital-"

"-do you remember her being pregnant with me?" Emil didn't seem to be able to meet his (maybe) brother's eyes.

"I don't know, I mean, I was a kid-"

_This could get tedious_ thought Jeremy. Time to bring on the family. Anyone was bound to be more camera-friendly than this sulky teen and his seemingly emotionless possible sibling.

"Well, before we read out those all-important DNA test results, I think we should hear from the people who have seen our guests grow up. Or, in _your_ case" he narrowed his eyes at Lukas "..not. Let's give a big welcome to their uncle, Mathias!"

A tall man with messy blond hair with an odd-looking small hat perched atop it bounded onto the stage. He squeezed Emil's arm and mouthed something at him that Jeremy didn't quite catch, then slapped Lukas on the shoulder. "Norge! Long time no see man, how's it going?"

Lukas' reply was curt, at best. "It hasn't been long enough. And you've already heard from Berwald and Tino how it's going."

Mathias shrugged and sat down. "Still a little ice queen then. Hi Jeremy. I very much like your show, your guests are hilarious!" Jeremy wasn't sure if the man was kidding or not. "Thank you for being on the show, Mathias. Now, would you like to tell us a bit about what happened when you took your nephews in?"

Mathias nodded. "Sure. Well, I hadn't seen my sister for years, so it was kind of a shock to have two little boys to look after, you know? But I tried my best, I thought we'd get through it OK. Emil was fine, you know, very quiet, but I couldn't do anything with Lukas. He didn't want to go anywhere with us, he just read all the time, he didn't want to take part in Family Game Night-"

Lukas interrupted him. "Family Game Night consisted of us throwing stones at beer cans and trying to knock them down, you Danish dullard."

Mathias waved a hand dismissively. "I tried getting through to him, but he just called me stupid all the time. He got on great with Berwald though, so eventually, he left to go live with him. I figured, hey, I gave it a shot, it didn't work, time to crack open a beer and focus on little Emmy here, right?"

Emil looked mortified. "That's _not_ my name" he muttered. Jeremy rounded on Mathias.

"So you have two young boys who lost their mother under your roof, and you just gave up on one of them? No wonder he didn't want to participate in your game night, it doesn't sound like you made much of an effort at all!"

More applause from the audience, presumably hungry for more, having run out of disapproval for Lukas. Mathias looked hurt.

"Hey, I tried. I don't know, I guess I wasn't ready to look after kids. Emmy here was no trouble, but I just kept getting lip from Norgey, and he seemed so much happier with Berwald, you know? So it seemed like a good idea to let him stay with him."

Jeremy was becoming very aware of how long this was taking.

"Well, join us after the break, when we'll be meeting Berwald and his wife Tino, and getting the DNA test results that will tell us if Lukas and Emil are, in fact, brothers. Don't go away."

The stage manager gave the signal. "Good show so far!" chirped Mathias, taking a can of beer from inside his jacket and opening it. Jeremy stared in amazement. One of the producers ran over to take it off him.

"Oh come on, it's a special occasion! Not very often I get these two together. And not very often I'm surrounded by these funny shouty people without teeth- hey!"

The producer had removed the beer from his grasp and walked away, shaking her head. Jeremy decided to head to his dressing room until everything was set up.

"Welcome back to The Jeremy Kyle Show. Today, we're talking about abandonment within the family. Before the break, we met Emil, whose brother Lukas' lack of communication after moving away leaves him wondering if they're even related at all. We also spoke to their uncle, Mathias, who started off raising both boys, but let Lukas move in with his other uncle, Berwald. With that, can we please give a big welcome to Berwald and his wife Tino."

The applause was more polite than usual, but trickled to a stop when a huge, imposing blond man with glasses took to the stage with a much shorter man, who was smiling pleasantly. Jeremy headed with uncertainty towards the taller man. "Berwald, thanks for being with us here today. Er... was Tino unable to make it?"

Berwald shook his head and nodded towards the smaller man next to him. "Th's Tino. M' wife."

The audience burst out laughing. They soon stopped with one terrifying look from the giant Swedish man in front of them. Jeremy hastily decided to move on.

"Well, thanks for being here, anyway. Now, would you like to tell us how you came to take Lukas in?"

Berwald began. "W'll, h'wsnt g'ttn n'wll-"

"I'm sorry Berwald, we're struggling to hear you, would you be able to speak a bit more clearly?" Jeremy did not want to have to keep asking this behemoth, but they couldn't do anything with footage of a scary man mumbling. Berwald tried again.

"H'nd Mths-"

At this point, his "wife" Tino decided to intervene.

"Well, Lukas and Mathias didn't get on very well. It was just bickering at first, but then it was constant arguing, and that's no environment for a teenage boy to live in-"

"And what did they argue about?"

Tino laughed. "Well, what didn't they argue about? Every little thing, it was arguing. I think Lukas said that Mathias was maybe not so sensitive-"

"-I said he was a tactless idiot" interjected Lukas.

"That's right, tactless idiot. And Mathias was always under the impression that Lukas just didn't want to try-"

"He really didn't. He just sat in his room with his books and his fish smell and his little girly hair clips."

"Shut up Mathias" muttered Lukas flatly.

Jeremy sighed. "And what about Emil's suspicions about Lukas not actually being his brother? Any thoughts on that?"

Mathias burst out laughing. "Of course they're related! Look at these two sad-faced little girlboys, they even look alike-"

"No we don't!" protested Emil, as Lukas rolled his eyes and muttered "Stupid Dane."

"Oh, they're clearly brothers, they're so similar!" exclaimed Tino. "Right, Berwald?"

The tall man nodded. "Th'r br'thrs, fer sure."

Jeremy was handed an envelope. "In this envelope are the results of your DNA test. Emil, what if it turns out you're related? Would you like to stay in touch with Lukas?"

Emil stared at the floor. "I'd like to. It would be nice to have my..." he shifted uncomfortably. "Never mind. But yes. Maybe."

Lukas gave a miniscule smile. "Your what?"

Emil glowered at him. "Nothing. Let's open the envelope already."

"Lukas, what if you are related? Would you actually make the effort to keep in touch with your brother this time?"

Lukas nodded. "Of course. If he wants his big brother back-"

"I'm not calling you that."

Lukas smirked. "We'll see."

Jeremy opened the envelope. "Emil. The DNA results are in-"

"-Of course they are, they're right there in your hand!" Mathias pointed out. Jeremy continued.

"And the results indicate that Lukas..." he paused for a good five seconds before he noticed Mathias getting ready to interrupt again. "_is_ your biological brother."

The audience applauded. Tino squealed "I'm so happy, I knew it!". Berwald emitted a sort of congratulatory grunt. Mathias punched the air and shouted "Told you, I knew you two were brothers!" Jeremy sat on the steps to the stage next to Emil.

"What's done is done. You both maybe should have put more effort into communicating when you were growing up, agreed?"

Both young men nodded.

"So are you going to make an effort now?"

"Of course" Lukas replied. "We'll need to make up for lost time." He slyly glanced at Emil, who nodded.

"Yeah. I guess I need to stick with what family I have, you know? So I'll try to spend more time with my bi-" he clapped a hand over his mouth before he could complete his sentence.

"Your what?" asked Lukas, grinning like a shark. "Big something?"

"Shut up."

"Come on. Say it."

"No!"

"You will. In time."

Jeremy intervened. "Say what, exactly?"

"Well, when Emil was little, he used to call me Big Brother-"

"No I didn't. Shut up. I'm not calling you that." Emil was blushing furiously. There were several "Aw!" sounds from the audience. Lukas decided to take advantage of this.

"Say my name."

"No!"

Mathias laughed. "Come on Emmy, just say his name so we can go celebrate, huh?"

"I'm not saying it."

Tino giggled. "Oh, come on, how hard can it be? Nothing wrong with it, I think it would be lovely."

"J'st say't" added Berwald. Emil was visibly fuming. The audience started a chant of "Say his name! Say his name! Say his name!"

Emil stood up.

"Big Brother." he muttered. And stomped off backstage. Jeremy grinned and turned to the camera.

"Thanks to Emil, Lukas, Mathias, Berwald and Tino for appearing on the show, join us after the break when our next guest will be confronting his grandfather because he abandoned him as a child, but happily raised his younger brother. Don't go away, we'll be right back."

The stage manager gave the sign, and the rest of his Nordic guests filed off stage, presumably to torture the youngest further. One of the research team walked up to him.

"Well, that went well, don't you think?"

"Compared to yesterday? That was a presenter's fucking wet dream. Please tell me the next lot are going to be just as manageable."

The woman looked uncertain. "Well..."

"Well what?"

She tried to put it diplomatically. "Your main guest will make for excellent TV?"

Jeremy groaned. "He's going to be a nightmare, isn't he?"

The woman from research smiled. "Let's just say there aren't enough bleeps in the world to censor his average conversation. And please don't expect him to be in any way helpful or co-operative."

Jeremy scowled at her. "You know, it's weeks like this that make me suspect that you hate me."

He turned away and headed off to touch-up before he could hear a denial that never came.

_**Hi folks, author here. Sorry this isn't particularly accurate historically, I figured that, since it's basically a human AU, it probably wouldn't matter as much. Also, today I learned that I am not very good at writing Berwald's speech patterns/sp'ch p'ttrns. **_

_**Anyway, I'm sure you can guess who's coming up next. Reviews feed my monstrous ego or at least stop me from screwing up epically, so they're much appreciated. Bye for now!**_


	5. You Abandoned Me, But Not My Brother!

_I do not own Hetalia or The Jeremy Kyle Show. I do, however, own a complete set of teeth, which disqualifies me from the latter.  
_

_**Chapter 4: "You Abandoned Me, But Not My Brother!"**_

"So apparently the next bloke we've got on is a right prick. Harmless, but kept telling the backstage team to fuck off, made whatshername... Maureen's daughter, doing work experience, decent tits-"

"She's 15." interrupted Sarah the make-up girl.

"Right. Anyway, he made her cry. Soft cow, all he did was call her a jerk or something."

Sarah shrugged. "So what's his problem anyway? Is he another one getting moaned at by his family?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Actually, he's the one doing the moaning. Long story short, he's got a brother who's a bit younger and apparently less of an arsehole. Their uncle raised them, but he had to move across Italy to take some job, art dealership or something. Anyway, he took his brother with him and left the whinging sod with a family friend. Not really surprising if he was anywhere near as much of a dickhead as he is now."

"Do any of your guests today have parents?"

Jeremy laughed. "I thought it'd be perfectly clear by now that my show wouldn't even exist without broken homes."

"True. So who's getting the most grief off you, him or his uncle?"

"Depends. Probably him, to be honest. He sounds like he needs chewing out anyway, from the sounds of things, he was spoiled rotten by the family friend because he felt sorry for him. Doesn't seem to have helped. If any of my kids turned out like that, I'd be bloody ashamed."

"You haven't even met him yet."

"Don't need to. I've seen how much the producers are bricking it. Anyway, must dash. I've got to mentally prepare myself for dealing with an Italian with the world's biggest chip on his shoulder. Bye, Sarah."

The door closed with a soft "click". Sarah looked at the work pass hanging on a lanyard around her neck, and shook her head.

"It's Sierra" she mumbled. "If he calls me Sarah one more time..."

"Welcome back. Now, before the break, we were talking to Emil, who wanted to overcome his abandonment issues and form a bond with his brother after his DNA results showed that they were definitely related. Our next guest also feels abandoned by a family member, but this time by his uncle, who he says moved away with his younger brother, and left him with a family friend when he was just eight years old."

He paused for the obligatory hushed "Aw" noise from the audience, then continued.

"He says that he's managed to salvage his relationship with his younger brother, but he would like closure, and wants to confront his uncle to find out why he left him at such a young age. Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome Lovino to the show."

The audience applauded. No-one appeared. The applause faded to a few solitary claps and confused murmuring.

"I told you, you bastard, I'll go up there when I'm ready! Get off me!"

A voice could be heard backstage (and possibly in China), followed by some scuffling noises. Eventually, a young man with dark hair and a scowl that could curdle piss was shoved onto the stage, presumably by a member of the backstage team who had tolerated enough from him.

"Hey! HEY! Don't think I'll forget that, you damn jerk! That's assault! I'll be telling the police-"

"Lovino" Jeremy intervened. "Welcome to the show."

"It's not much of a welcome when your damn backstage-"

"Yes, apologies, but we really do need to get on."

Lovino glowered at him and slumped in a seat.

"Thanks for being on the show. Now, you're here to confront your Uncle Roman. Why don't you tell us a bit more about that?"

"You've already told everyone, I heard you."

"Yes, but it'd be nice to hear it from your perspective. Why don't you start with when you lived with your brother and uncle?"

Lovino stared dejectedly at his feet. Jeremy almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Almost.

"Well, my brother's damn perfect, you know? Uncle Roman's really interested in art, he's a retired art dealer, and Feli was always good at painting, so he was the favourite. He's good at cooking, and always has a stupid fucking smile on his face, so everyone loves him."

Jeremy nodded. "So you felt that you weren't good enough even before he moved?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Jeremy sighed. "Look, Lovino, we're trying to help. You're not doing yourself any favours by being difficult, mate."

"I'm not your mate. Jerk."

Jeremy glared at him, and knelt down to look him in the eye. "Listen, _mate,_ I've been talking to you for less than three minutes, and already I can see why people might prefer your brother. Lose the attitude."

"You can't-"

"SHUT. UP." Lovino's mouth hung open in surprise. Jeremy turned to the audience.

"Now, let's welcome Lovino's younger brother Feliciano to the show, ladies and gentlemen."

The audience resumed their prompted applause as a young man hopped onto the stage. He looked similar to Lovino, except for two things: his hair was auburn rather than dark brown, and he was actually smiling.

"Fratello!" he shrieked at glass-shattering levels, and threw himself onto Lovino, trapping him in a vice-like hug.

"Feli, get off me, you damn-"

Jeremy couldn't help but smile. "Feli, is that right? Do you prefer Feli? Anyway, welcome to the-" he was cut off by the younger guest flinging himself onto Jeremy, kissing him on both cheeks, and then shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Yay! Thankyou for having me Mr Jeremy, it's so nice of you to try to help my fratello! It's been upsetting him so much, and it would be so nice to make him happy so we can all be one big family again, then we can have a family meal, I can cook penne with sun-dried tomatoes, they're his favourite, and he's actually quite good at making calzone-"

Jeremy felt like his arm was going to fall off. "Thank you Feli, would you like to take a seat?"

"Ve, yes."

Jeremy straightened his tie and made a mental note to wash his overly-shaken hand later.

"Well, Feli, I assume you heard Lovino's impression of your childhood. He says that you were the favourite, and he was ignored most of the time?"

Feliciano's face fell. "It wasn't that he was ignored, it's just me and Uncle Roman really liked to paint! He tried, but there was this one time when he tried to paint a bowl of fruit, and it looked like a squashed hippopotamus! Uncle Roman tried to teach him, but he just couldn't get the hang of it-"

"Uncle Roman was a fucking crappy teacher, that's why!" yelled Lovino from his seat. Jeremy whirled around and gave him his best "Shut up or get off my stage" glare, then turned back to Feliciano.

"Sorry Feli, continue."

"Well, he wasn't very good at sculpting either, and he was kind of clumsy and always knocking things over, and he freaked out at any change! I mean, I remember Tuesday night was usually meatball night, but we had lasagne al forno instead, and he called Uncle Roman a bastard and went to his room. I took him some lasagne, and he told me to go away, but he ate it anyway, and-"

"Hey! Aren't I the one meant to be doing the talking? This is exactly why I came on this stupid show, I want people to listen to me for a fucking change!"

Jeremy stormed over to Lovino and loomed over him. Lovino tried to look unphased, but ended up scouring his surroundings for an escape route.

"You speak when I say you can. Look at that." He pointed to the glowing letters spelling "Jeremy Kyle". "Whose show is this?"

"...yours."

"And whose stage is this?"

"You don't own the building, jerk."

Jeremy slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair, making his guest jump.

"This is my show. Now, shut up and let your brother speak. I started off feeling sorry for you, my friend, but if this is how you treat people, I'm not surprised you're not the favourite."

The audience, aware that someone in their vicinity was being told off, applauded like a line-up of circus seals. Jeremy went back to Feliciano.

"So, Feli, what happened when your uncle moved?"

"Well, Uncle Roman got offered a really important job as an art dealer, but he'd have to move from Rome to Venice to take it. He thought it would be good for me, because I'd be around other people who liked art too, but Lovino was angry and wouldn't talk to either of us. We knew he didn't like change, and Uncle Roman didn't want him to be sad, so he thought it would be better for him to move in with Antonio."

"Antonio being..."

"He's a friend of the family. He was only young at the time, but he set up a bedroom in his flat and slept on the sofa so Lovino could live with him while me and Uncle Roman went to Venice."

"Speaking of Antonio, he's up next on the show. Don't go away, we'll be right back."

The stage manager gave the signal, and Jeremy gave a relieved sigh. He was hoping for someone on that stage who was neither a dismal mess of a man or a shrieking, hyperactive lunatic. With the American and the German from yesterday, and that idiotic Dane (who dragged his family to the nearest pub, along with several members of the aftercare team as soon as the show ended), he'd had enough of boisterous, noisy foreigners. He decided to head off to his dressing room before he could get caught up in the argument the brothers had gotten into as soon as the cameras were off. Well, it wasn't so much an argument. Lovino was shouting at his brother for "making him look like a jerk" and Feliciano was crying. Jeremy noticed a couple of producers go over to calm things down, shook his head, and went for his latte.

"Welcome back. Now, before the break, we met Lovino, who says that his uncle favoured his younger brother over him to the extent where the two of them moved across the country and left him in the care of a family friend. Lovino wants to confront his uncle over what he sees as abandonment, and hopefully move forward. Now, Antonio was the family friend who raised Lovino from the age of eight, despite only being eighteen when he took him in. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Antonio to the show."

The applause probably registered on the Richter Scale, simply because the show had previously been so devoid of men willing to act as a parent even to children they'd actually fathered. A smiling, tanned man with messy brown hair and bright green eyes walked onto the stage, waving cheerfully. He ruffled Lovino's hair (causing him to blush furiously), and took a seat.

"Antonio, thanks for being on the show."

"No problem, Jeremy. I think it's nice that you help these people, no? Some of them, they look like deformed churros!" he laughed.

"Anyway. So, you took in Lovino when you were eighteen. That must have been a huge amount of responsibility for you to get used to-"

"Oh, it was nothing. Well, not nothing. I mean, my girlfriend left me, and I had to sleep on the couch for five years until I could afford a place with two bedrooms, and Lovino was a mischievous little tomato when he was younger, so many things he broke! But he would have hated moving to Venice, and Roman was joking one day that I should take him in since I was the only one who could cope with him, and I thought it might be worth a shot. I mean, it was nice to have the company, and he was a nice little boy even though he yelled a lot-"

"Toni, you jerk, shut the hell up!" yelled an increasingly embarrassed Lovino, looking anywhere but at the audience or at his former guardian.

Jeremy glared at him. "So you've been sat here, playing the victim, completely overlooking the fact that this man has practically raised you, given you a roof over your head, and tolerated your foul moods?"

Lovino crossed his arms. "He'd still rather have raised my brother!"

Both Feliciano and Antonio protested. Jeremy decided to bellow over them.

"And yet, he didn't! He took you in. And all you do is sit there telling him to shut up!"

Lovino pouted. Jeremy took advantage of the moment of silence to introduce his next guest.

"We've heard from Lovino, his brother, and the man who raised him, now let's hear from his uncle, who left him with a family friend at the age of eight" (the audience gasped, as though they'd forgotten this detail) "and yet, raised his younger brother. Let's welcome Roman to the show."

What Roman received was not exactly a welcome. The audience booed like they were attending a pantomime where every part was played by Fred West. He was a tall, well-built man who was apparently in his late 50s but looked at least ten years younger (possibly, Jeremy suspected, due to liberal use of botox). Seemingly unaffected by the booing, Roman gave a charming smile and took a seat.

"Roman, thanks for coming on the show."

"You're welcome, Mr Kyle. Don't worry, I can win at least some of your audience over. Ciao, bella." He winked at a woman in the front row who bore more than a passing resemblance to Sloth from The Goonies. She stopped glaring in disapproval and blushed.

"Roman, you may have noticed from the unfavourable reception there that most people are wondering what would possess you to leave an eight-year-old boy in the care of a teenager?"

"Well, Jeremy, Lovino was such a difficult little boy, you see. I tried to reach out to him, but we just didn't have anything in common. I tried to teach him to paint, it was a catastrophe. We tried music, he was completely tone deaf. He broke furniture whenever he tried to help out with chores, he just couldn't seem to settle in Rome."

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. "So rather than make the effort to find out what he WAS actually good at, you just gave up because he didn't share your interests? That has to be the most selfish thing I've seen since.. Well, this morning."

The audience (except for Sloth Woman) clapped hard enough to turn their palms into jerky. Roman looked genuinely surprised. Lovino, having been surprisingly quiet for a while, interjected.

"You just left me with Antonio! You didn't even ask if I wanted to go with you-"

"I didn't need to! You said that you'd rather cram ravioli up your ass than move to Venice."

"It's true" Feliciano pointed out. "He pulled his pants down and got very close to pushing some beef and tomato ravioli up there but couldn't bring himself to actually do it." Everyone ignored him.

"I was a fucking kid! You weren't supposed to take me seriously, you bastard, you were supposed to look after me! You just _loved_ Feli, he was the golden boy, but you didn't give a shit about me, you just left me with a fucking teenager!"

Roman looked stunned. "You genuinely think that? Lovi-"

"Lovino."

"Lovino, fine. Of course I cared about you. Tell me, did Antonio take good care of you?"

Lovino pressed his lips together and stared at his feet. "I guess."

Jeremy decided, once again, to intervene.

"You guess? The man slept on a sofa for five years for you, how about showing some gratitude!"

More applause. Lovino clutched the sides of his chair.

"I AM GRATEFUL! BASTARD!"

The applause trailed off. "I am grateful. Antonio, he was always there. He gave up a lot for me. Even though I wasn't good at art or... well, anything."

Antonio looked surprised. "But that's silly, Lovi! You're amazing at gardening, for example. Why do you think I use those tomatoes you grow? Even I could never get them to grow like you do. That's why I use them at the cafe, the customers always say how nice and fresh our food tastes."

"OK, you like my tomatoes, but you don't like having me around!"

Antonio looked horrified. "Why would you think that? Why would you still be living with me even now if I didn't like having you around? I've known you for over ten years now, you're the most important person in the world to me."

Jeremy could have been forgiven for thinking that he was on the set of a romantic comedy, considering the nauseating noises coming from the audience. This had to stop.

"Lovino, I left you with Antonio because I thought you'd be happier with him. And it sounds like you were. It's not that I don't care for you, you're my nephew. I just thought that Feli would enjoy Venice, but you'd be miserable there."

"You would be" Feliciano added, "People are very touchy-feely and pasta isn't as popular there."

Jeremy felt a headache forming. "Lovino, do you think there's any chance of forming a bond of with Roman?"

Lovino sighed. "I don't know. I can forgive the bastard, I guess. But he's right, we have fucking nothing in common."

"And what about Antonio?"

"I don't have to forgive him for anything."

"No, you don't. But you do need to be more appreciative of the man who basically raised you."

More applause while Antonio looked embarrassed.

"It's fine, it really is-"

"No." Lovino managed a smile. "You've been good to me, I guess. So... thanks. Jerk."

Antonio grinned. "You're welcome, Lovi."

The stage manager was giving Jeremy the "We're running out of time" gesture (it basically involved pointing violently at her wrist).

"OK, Feli and Roman, you go that way, Lovino and Antonio, you go that way. We've run out of time for now, but be sure to join us tomorrow, when we'll be meeting people who don't realise that they're actually scaring the objects of their affections. Thanks for watching."

Jeremy usually didn't have a problem with smoking outside, but he suspected that, among the usual rollie-smoking runners fresh out of university and some of the bovine inbreds from the audience, his guests might also be in the depressing, fenced-off area. That being the case, he was heading to the cupboard in the corridor where the smoke alarm hadn't worked in two years. As he approached the cupboard, he couldn't help but notice that it seemed to be occupied.

"Think he suspected something?"

"No, mi amore. That man couldn't see anything past his huge ego."

There was a small burst of laughter that interrupted the heavy breathing.

"That idiota. But we have the hotel room for another night, yes?"

"Sì. All courtesy of this silly bullfight of a show."

The two were too occupied with each other to even hear Jeremy put his foot through the glass of the nearest vending machine.

**_The End! You may be able to guess at least one of the characters popping up in the next couple of chapters. Thanks for follows and reviews so far. Your approval is like food to me and I must feed. Go on, even ruffling my hair or something will do. _**


	6. Back Off, I'm Not Interested!

_I do not own Hetalia or The Jeremy Kyle Show. I also don't own a country. YET.  
_

_**Chapter Five: "Back Off, I'm Not Interested!"**_

Jeremy rested his pounding head on the comforting, cool surface of his dressing room table. He wasn't even halfway through the week and already he was horribly hungover, having drowned his sorrows with a bottle or two (definitely "or two") of wine last night. He would have just gone to the nearby pub and enjoyed a couple of pints and a packet of pork scratchings, but he'd poked his head in there, only to see those Italians making an unholy racket that almost drowned out the raucous drinking songs coming from the Scandinavians (granted, only the Danish one seemed to be singing, but he alone was capable of bursting eardrums). Having given up on any notion of a quiet couple of pints, he'd gone to the nearby 24 hour Tesco, and grabbed a couple of bottles of Jacob's Creek. This was clearly not a sensible idea.

"Jeremy? Time for make-up."

"Learn to knock. And go away, I'm fucking hanging out my arse this morning."

"Well, we need to get started. It's going to take me twice as long today just to make you look human."

Jeremy hauled himself to his feet and followed Sarah the make-up girl, wondering what had happened. Didn't people used to treat him with at least a tiny bit of respect?

"So, where in the world do today's guests hail from?"

"Actually, we've got a British bloke on first, thank God. Although I think the research team hate me or something, because the other guest is a bloody Frenchman. Apparently he won't accept that their one-night thing is over. I'm basically spending my week surrounded by foreigners, gays, and foreign gays."

"And foreigners who like looking at gays, if that girl the other day is anything to go by."

"That too." Jeremy sighed as Sarah continued covering the bags under his eyes. "And those two are just for the first part of the show, I've got a truly fucked up one later where the guy's sister is constantly coming on to him."

"His _sister?!"_

"Yep. This is exactly why people want out of the EU. We're surrounded by bloody perverts." His make-up finished, he got up and gave Sarah a firm slap on the behind.

"Anyway, I'm going to go over my notes and try to muster up some enthusiasm. See you."

The girl turned back to her now-cold croissant.

"Oh, and Sarah? You don't want to be eating those things, you'll turn into a fat beast like Hannah from aftercare."

She stared at his retreating back in sheer fury and hurled her pastry into the bin.

"It's. Fucking. Sierra."

_Later..._

"Good morning, and welcome to the show. Ordinarily, someone showing an interest in you is a good thing. However, today, we'll be talking to guests who say that they're sick of being harassed, and want their pursuers to back off. Our first guest today says that, after a poorly-judged drunken one-night stand years ago, his neighbour still doesn't seem to understand that it's over, and frequently makes advances, going as far as to show up naked on his doorstep."

A series of giggles rippled through the audience.

"He says that former attempts at getting through to his neighbour haven't worked, so he has no choice but to come on the show before it becomes a matter for the police. Let's welcome Arthur to the show."

The audience applauded as a man walked onto the stage. He was small and slim-built, and Jeremy suspected that his remarkably large eyebrows accounted for about 50% of his weight. He was smartly-dressed, if you overlooked the messy blond hair, and made the effort to walk up to Jeremy and shake his hand.

"Arthur, thanks for being on the show."

"It's quite alright. If national television doesn't drum it into Francis' thick skull that I'm not interested, then nothing will."

"Now Arthur, you've admitted to the research team that you and Francis have a complicated history, is that right?"

The man frowned and folded his hands in his lap. "I should probably start from the beginning."

"Of course."

"Well, Francis has been my neighbour for a few years now. We've never really got on; in fact we argue constantly."

Jeremy nodded. "And yet, apparently there was one night where you did sleep together, is that right?"

Arthur shuddered. "Yes. About that. Well, I was very, very drunk and that bloody frog helped me home from the local pub. I don't remember much, but there was a lapse of judgement, and we may have ended up...er... having relations."

More tittering from the audience. Jeremy forced a smile.

"And you think he got the wrong idea from that?"

"Yes. I did try to tell him the next morning that it was strictly a one-off, but to this day, he keeps pestering me."

"And how does he pester you?"

"Well, last week, I went to take the rubbish out, and he was posing nude on top of my wheelie bin. This is... well, worryingly, this is a frequent occurrence. As you can see, Jeremy, it's getting rather ridiculous. Our other neighbours think we're perverts, for God's sake. Well, in his case they have a point, but-"

"And how has this effected your life?"

"Well, I can't bring anyone home. And I mean anyone. My Mum came by for tea a while ago, and he was in my garden, painted up as a mime, acting out some absolutely disgusting act. When I pointed out that I had company, he mimed being stuck in a glass box and told my Mum that this made him an expert when it came to boxes!"

A few students in the audience giggled, no doubt making a note of that line for later. Jeremy tried to hide his own amusement (and hangover) and continued.

"So you've made it absolutely clear to him that you're not interested, and he still hassles you constantly?"

"Yes. Last night, he turned up at my hotel room balls-deep in a baguette. Apparently this was meant to be arousing. I turned him away, and I still get the impression that he finished off in the baguette."

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Well, we've heard your side of the story, ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome Francis to the show."

The audience were clearly beside themselves with excitement. It would appear that they hadn't had sufficient levels of perversion on the show this week. A man who had clearly spent at least three hours in front of a mirror stepped out onto the stage. He had long blond hair and was clad head to toe in designer clothing. Jeremy suspected that his outfit alone was worth more than the annual income of his usual guest. Francis blew a kiss to Arthur, much to the latter's disgust.

"Francis, welcome to the show."

The man gave a dignified bow, grabbed Jeremy's hand, and, to his horror, kissed it. He could not have yanked his hand back quicker had he dunked it into a vat of boiling oil.

"Monsieur Kyle, wonderful to meet you. I only wish I had your strength when it comes to dealing with some of these people."

Jeremy stiffened at the implication that his guests were so awful. Obviously, they were, but his career hinged on the fact that he was one of the few people to realise it.

"Francis, thanks for being on the show. Now, we've heard Arthur's side of the story."

Francis nodded. "Oui, it is true that I have made many gestures towards Arthur."

"And you don't see anything wrong with harassing him to such levels?"

Francis looked genuinely surprised. "Jeremy, I understand that you and your fellow _rosbif_ are not well-versed in the language of love, but-"

"THIS. IS. NOT LOVE." Jeremy got as close to Francis as he could without actually running the risk of being groped. "Why don't you just take the hint and leave him alone?"

Francis shrugged and smirked at the camera. "Well, I took the hint the first time Arthur and I performed the dance of... l'amour."

The audience made an "Oooh!" noise that wouldn't have sounded out of place on the set of an 80s sitcom. Jeremy frowned. "What do you mean by the first time?"

Francis gave the sort of obnoxious French laugh not usually heard outside of cartoons. "Oh, you think it was just a one-night thing? Non, my little _rosbif_ can't stay away from my... how you say... baguette."

Arthur looked mortified. "You stupid bloody frog, I have no idea what you're-"

"Oh Arthur, mon chere, you are seriously trying to deny our love?"

"It's not love, you sodding wine-sniffing BO-cultivating-"

"Jeremy." Jeremy turned to Francis. "I think maybe Arthur has not been entirely honest with you."

Jeremy sighed. "And what makes you say that, Francis?"

Francis smirked. "Well, the one night stand you know about was not so much a one night stand. Arthur is drunk and staggering to my doorstep at least three times a week."

The audience gasped. Jeremy, with his hangover finally wearing off, straightened his tie and smiled as he rounded on Arthur, who was cringing hard enough to disappear through the floor.

"So."

Arthur buried his face (and, by extension, his guinea pig-sized eyebrows) in his hands.

"You complain that Francis won't leave you alone, and yet, you're practically begging him for sex several times per week?"

Arthur tried to protest. "It's not several-"

"You know what I think? I think you _like_ the attention."

The audience applauded. Arthur glared at them.

"I don't like the attention, it's just that he doesn't respect my boundaries-"

"Boundaries? A bit rich coming from a man who gets drunk and staggers over to his neighbour's house, then complains when the bloke doesn't leave him alone!"

More rapturous applause. Jeremy perched on the stage steps next to Arthur.

"So, do you actually want Francis to leave you alone? Or do you just want him to leave you alone when it suits you?"

"I want him to respect my personal space."

Jeremy decided that it was time to bring out the yelling.

"SO DO YOU WANT HIM OR NOT?"

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. The faint smell of garlic should have alerted him to the fact, but he only realised that Francis was right behind him upon turning around.

"Monsieur, I appreciate your offer of help, but I do not believe that shouting at mon amour is the way to fix our problems. He is arrogant, and hypocritical, and his food tastes like cremated rocks-"

"My food is fine, you snail-guzzling oaf!" snapped Arthur.

"But" Francis continued "He is a good man. He just needs a push in the right direction, non?"

Jeremy frowned at the two of them, unsure as to what to say.

"So... Arthur, any time you'd like to jump in with your opinion would be ideal."

Arthur took a deep breath and stood up.

"I suppose I might have been a little hard on Francis."

"Sounds like you were a little hard in him!" yelled someone from the audience.

"Shut up, wanker!" yelled Arthur. "Anyway. It's not that I _hate _you or anything, it's just that you make it so hard for me to actually like you. I thought that maybe it would be better not to have you anywhere near my house at all, but... well, I hate to admit it, but you're alright. Just... leave my Mum alone. She nearly had a stroke after the mime incident."

Jeremy could honestly not have cared less about his guests at this point. "So, Arthur, you admit that you don't mind Francis being around as long as he behaves-" he glanced over at the Frenchman, who was currently multitasking to the extent of admiring himself in a pocket mirror while waving at one of the runners "-and Francis obviously would like to make things work with you."

Arthur's hands were fidgeting in his lap. "I suppose so. I'd just rather be able to take the rubbish out without having to deal with a naked man perched on my bin."

Jeremy walked over to Francis. "So you agree to maybe back off and give him some space?"

Francis flashed a charming smile. "But of course. However, Eyebrows there knows exactly where I am, should he want me. And he will, eventually."

"Shut it, frog!"

The stage manager was giving the "we don't have time for this shit" signal. Jeremy groaned. "OK, well, Arthur, you go that way, Francis, you go that way."

The two men started to clear off the stage.

"After the break, we'll be meeting a man who says that his relationship with his younger sister is being destroyed because of her obsessive behaviour. Don't go away, we'll be back right after the break."

_Later..._

Jeremy headed back towards his nice, private smoking quarters, safe in the knowledge that the Italian and the Spaniard from yesterday were at least enjoying their extremely odd relationship somewhere else. He burst into the cupboard, Marlboro Red in hand, only to find both of his guests completely naked, and in a position that broke several laws relating to public decency.

"Oh, for CHRIST'S SAKE!" he bellowed, and stormed off to the depressing fenced-off smoking area outside, not certain that he could stop himself from stubbing his cigarette out on the nearest runner.

"Aren't I supposed to be the fucking star of this show or something?"

_**Author here. Sorry folks, this is probably not my best chapter. It might take a few days, but the next one should be better (and it's pretty obvious who's going to be involved with that one). If anyone needs me, I'll be hiding in my USUK fangirl-proof shelter. In the meantime, the usual applies; consume, enjoy, review. Over and out!**_


	7. Sister, You're Ruining My Social Life!

_I do not own The Jeremy Kyle Show, Jeremy Kyle himself, or Hetalia. They don't own me either. I own me, though, meaning that I'm pondering declaring my body a country. It's my land, after all. People sat on my lap could be considered citizens. My bellybutton is my capital, by the way. It's called Bellujah and its primary export is lint. _

_OK, fine. On with the story. _

_**Chapter 6: "Sister, You're Ruining My Social Life!"**_

Jeremy dropped his cigarette in a puddle on the ground of the bleak, fenced-off smoking area. Luckily, his previous guests were still rutting like rabbits in the cupboard, and no runner had been sent to drag him inside yet. However, the damp weather and general dismal feeling of gradually destroying his lungs in what was essentially a cage grew too much for him, and he started to head back inside, ready to deal with his next guests. Eastern European lot, apparently. Jeremy sighed. Research had warned him that they were a weird family. That said, there was the incest angle. After a standard week of lie detectors and Daddy issues, he'd be an idiot to ignore that.

"Have you got a light?" asked a runner on her way out to smoke.

"Yes" replied Jeremy and simply walked inside, ignoring the muttered utterance of "Prick" from the girl.

"Welcome back. Now, before the break, we met Arthur, whose neighbour's advances had become unmanageable to the extent that he was thinking of getting the police involved."

A memory from what he'd seen in the cupboard earlier pushed its way into Jeremy consciousness, and he couldn't stop the look of disgust from momentarily flickering across his stern features.

"Now, we'll all have to reject someone now and then, but what happens when that person is a member of your family? Our next guest says that his younger sister Natalya has been making his life miserable with violent advances, and _even demands that they get married._"

The audience frantically murmured to each other.

"That's sick."

"Her own brother? That's not right."

"Bet he's had a go on her anyway, you know what these bloody people are like..."

Jeremy smiled. At least this was more interesting than a Frenchman chasing after people like Pepe le Pew.

"He says that he wants to tell her to back off, because she's scaring off potential partners, and if she can't do that, it will become a police matter and he will no longer consider her to be family. Let's welcome Ivan to the show, ladies and gentlemen."

The audience applauded. The applause trickled to one solitary, pattering clap from the last person in the room to notice the quite frankly terrifying man on the stage.

For a start, he was tall. Very tall. He loomed over Jeremy (definitely loomed, this man clearly did not merely stand) and gave him a bone-crushing handshake that Jeremy would have thought to be a sign of malice until he looked at the childish, sweet, and unfathomably eerie smile plastered across his guest's face. Surely he was just unaware of how strong his handshake was, right? Jeremy grit his teeth and pulled his hand back.

"Ivan, thanks for being on the show. Take a seat."

Ivan nodded.

"_Spasibo_, Mr Kyle. I am very much enjoying your show. The shouting is very entertaining."

"Er... thanks." The man was pale, with silvery blonde hair. Jeremy noted that he looked similar to Emil from the previous day's show, if Emil had been fathered by a Yeti. Even the pale pink scarf Ivan inexplicably wore under the hot studio lights (_why wasn't he sweating? Was he even human?!)_ did nothing to make him look less intimidating. Jeremy straightened up, determined to press on.

"Now, you're here because of your sister Natalya, correct?"

Ivan nodded.

"From what you've told my research team, it sounds like this is quite a serious problem, and this is your last attempt at getting her to back off before you cut any family ties and get the police involved, right?"

"Da."

Jeremy frowned. Ivan was just sitting there, still smiling pleasantly, waiting for more prompts.

"So, Ivan, can you tell us a little bit about your sisters?"

"Da. Natalya, she is my younger sister. I was working away a lot while she was young, then she moved here with me and our older sister Katyusha last year."

Jeremy nodded. "And when did you start noticing that her behaviour was a little bit... over familiar?"

Ivan continued. "Well, when we arrived, she was eighteen. It wasn't a problem at first, she was just rather protective of me. When I would be in a bar, if someone spoke to me, she would drag me away. She said she was just looking out for me, and I understood that. But then, it got worse. She started threatening anyone going near me. If I met up with anyone, she would start turning up wherever we went. I couldn't have relationships because anyone I got close to, she would scare them away."

Jeremy felt unnerved. He swore that the stage felt a lot cooler than it usually did. "And how did she scare them away?"

Ivan shrugged. "Oh, standard things really, not an enormous effort. Just threats. Phone calls. Knife to the throat. Standard things, really."

Jeremy's jaw dropped. "She _threatened _people with knives just for talking to you? And you didn't go to the police? Actually, why didn't _they_ go to the police?"

Ivan's smile was unwavering. "I think perhaps they were concerned about your country's police not being able to sufficiently protect them. My sister, she is very tenacious. Our work ethic in Eastern Europe is second to none."

Jeremy summoned up all the courage he could muster and glared at him. "From the sounds of things, _mate_, you haven't exactly been taking this very seriously up until now."

Still no falter in Ivan's smile. "Forgive my English, Mr Kyle, but I do not believe that we are, as you say, _mates_. That would imply some sort of reproductive purpose to our relationship-"

Jeremy slapped his notes down on the chair next to Ivan (he was still keeping his distance). "Look. _Mate._ I'm the one helping you. And I wouldn't be taking that smug tone if I were you, when you get pushed around by your little sister!"

The audience burst into applause. Ivan didn't even blink, continuing to smile serenely. Jeremy's stomach tightened in annoyance. This huge, creepy bastard with a pink scarf, who was scared of his own sister, apparently didn't give one solitary shit about how the audience perceived him. It occurred to Jeremy that, in order to appear on national television in a pink scarf and confess to being scared of a young woman half your size, you probably would have to be indifferent to the opinions of those braying morons.

"So Ivan, what do you hope to get out of today?"

"I wish for Natalya to understand that, while I love her dearly as a sister, we will never marry."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously, that would be illegal. We'll touch on the marriage issue in a moment. First, let's welcome Ivan and Natalya's older sister Katyusha to the show."

The applause quickly descended into shrill wolf-whistling from the audience as a tearful woman with downcast eyes walked onto the stage a few inches behind her frankly enormous breasts. _Someone really should have advised her against dungarees_ thought Jeremy, as the denim straps struggled to contain the wobbling mass. Katyusha took a seat next to Ivan and gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

"Katyusha, welcome to the show. We've heard Ivan's version of events, and we'll be hearing Natalya's after the break, but could you tell us a bit about these problems and how they started?"

Katyusha sat up straight and winced slightly. "Well, she was always an odd child, Jeremy. Ivan spent a lot of time with relatives, even when he was very young, so he could take over the family business when he got older. He barely saw Natalya between that and school, but when he did see her, she would cling to him and bite anyone who tried to pull her off him."

Jeremy frowned. "I see. So you assumed it was just because she didn't get to see him very often."

"Yes. It wasn't until we all moved here that she became more clingy and started being violent. If anyone talked to Ivan, she would warn them off. And once- well, once I had a visit from the police saying that there had been a complaint." Katyusha started to cry. Jeremy handed her the ever-present box of tissues.

"And what had she done?" he asked gently. Katyusha gave a grateful, watery smile.

"Well, it seems that she sent a parcel. Containing a bird impaled on a spike."

A series of horrified gasps from the audience. Jeremy shook his head and patted Katyusha on the shoulder, trying desperately not to look at the colossal udders in his line of vision. He noticed that Ivan was still sat up straight, smiling politely.

"You."

Ivan turned his beam to Jeremy.

"Da?"

"You're awfully quiet about this for someone who wants my help, why is your older sister the only one upset by the fact that she's been sending people dead animals as threats?"

Ivan shrugged. "Natalya is very creative, I will admit. One time, she painted a beautiful picture of a sunflower and sent it to me. She painted it in blood, whose I cannot say, so the colouring was slightly inaccurate, but the execution was-"

"DO YOU WANT HER TO LEAVE YOU ALONE OR NOT?!" bellowed Jeremy, trying very hard not to think about what might happen to him once he left the studio later. Something about the "family business" remark from Katyusha brought to mind images of something shady. Did they have a Russian mafia? They must do, surely. Failing that, some KGB thing. He'd be lucky to make it through today with his kneecaps intact.

Ivan didn't even flinch. "Of course. But I do believe in credit where credit is due, she does have some interesting ideas. I just do not wish to have relations with her beyond those of normal siblings."

"About that. When did she start demanding to marry you? Because that's probably a sign that something is very wrong. Has she at least received any help?"

Ivan shook his head. "Nyet. She was briefly appointed a counsellor after the bird incident, but he quit the day after her appointment. Very strange, apparently suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be hospitalised. His colleagues say he always seemed perfectly content at work. It is odd, da? You never know who might be insane. Even the happiest people might be ones to watch." He turned his smile on Jeremy. "But in answer to your question, it was some time before the dead bird incident. One night, I was asleep, and she came into my room and got into bed. I asked her if she had had a nightmare, and she said no, she had dreamed about our wedding day. From there, she just kept insisting."

Jeremy was incredulous. "And what does she say when you remind her that you're her brother?"

Katyusha sniffed. "She says that, as she does not wish to have children with Ivan, it would not be a problem. Apparently her only concern is inbreeding."

"She's very intelligent" added Ivan. "She even looked up a disorder, usually found in relatives who had not seen each other in years. It turns out that genetics can cause a kind of sexual attraction to each other. I mean, in our case, it is entirely one-sided, but-"

Jeremy sighed, slowly losing the will to live. "Join us after the break, when we'll be meeting Natalya, don't go away." The stage manager gave the signal and Jeremy abruptly walked away from his guests. He glanced back to see that Katyusha was crying again and Ivan was talking quietly to her, infuriating smile still in place.

"What the hell" he hissed at Liz from the research team. "How do you expect me to help a load of incestuous KGB freaks? This isn't a sodding DNA test, that girl needs serious psychological help! Her brother too, no-one should be as bloody calm as-"

"Mister Kyle."

Jeremy whirled around to find himself face to face with said brother. Well, not face to face. Jeremy suspected that he'd have to stand on a table for that scenario to occur. Instead, he just gawped up at the enormous Russian once again looming over him.

"What is it, Ivan?" Jeremy tried to keep the fear out of his voice, despite being convinced that the man had heard most of what he just said. How did someone that large move so quickly and quietly?

"I just wished to thank you for allowing my family to appear on your fine show. Your staff have been extremely kind." He gestured to Katyusha, who was being comforted by a member of the backstage team.

Jeremy still didn't feel entirely at ease. "It's fine, Ivan, now, if you don't mind-"

"I would just like to ensure that Natalya is being treated as kindly as Katya and I" Ivan interrupted, "While she may be the source of many of my problems, this is probably as hard for her as it is for me."

Jeremy nodded. "Of course, the backstage team are taking very good care of her as we speak."

Ivan clapped his hands together, smile widening. "Wonderful. Oh, and it would be in your best interests if you were not to upset her as you have Katya, da?"

Jeremy's insides suddenly felt very cold. He honestly expected to go down on record as the first human to ever successfully shit icicles.

"Is that a threat?"

Ivan looked marginally offended. "Not at all. It's just that, sometimes, people are needlessly rude, or perhaps disrespectful towards my family. It makes me sad when people will not play nicely. And I'm sure you are not a man who likes to make people sad. You are fond of helping, da?"

"Uh... da." Jeremy mentally reeled off the name of every deity he could think of, and pleaded with them for an interruption.

Ivan clapped a large hand on his shoulder, nearly sending Jeremy flying into a sound guy.

"Then all is well!" he chirped. Jeremy couldn't help but notice that the smile was starting to wobble slightly, through either nervousness about confronting his sister, or sheer facial fatigue. As the large man began walking away, Jeremy turned back to Liz, whose mouth was hanging open.

"Did you see that? He practically bloody threatened me! I give it two hours before I'm bundled into a van by a load of General Orlov over there's henchmen!"

"Jeremy, I'm sure he didn't-"

"Liz, look at him." Jeremy pointed over to Ivan, who was currently engaging in idle conversation with a bespectacled runner. "He's clearly a fucking maniac."

Liz sighed. "Jeremy, he is not a maniac. Come on, I'm sure he wasn't threatening you. Don't forget, English isn't his first language."

"Threats were probably the first English phrases that massive oddball learned."

"Well, we're starting filming again in a moment. Apparently his sister's getting rather agitated backstage, no use in wasting that. Oh, and don't forget to talk to the family friend as well, he's the one over there." Liz pointed at a nervous looking young man in the audience with long brown hair. "He's inexplicably fond of this family. Well, he seems more scared of Ivan than anything, but-"

"See? He's a scary man. His family business is probably something to do with organ harvesting."

Liz rolled her eyes and walked off, and Jeremy went to assume his position.

"Welcome back, thanks for watching. We've been talking to Ivan, who says his younger sister Natalya's obsessive behaviour and demands for marriage are preventing him from forming relationships of his own, and making him consider getting the police involved. The police, by the way, have been involved before after Natalya sent a dead bird to someone Ivan was involved with."

The audience had apparently forgotten these details, judging by their horrified rumblings.

"Now, Ivan wants his sister to back off, and says that, if she doesn't stop harassing him, starting today, then he will get a restraining order and no longer consider her to be family. Drastic steps, I think you'll agree. Let's welcome Natalya to the show, ladies and gentlemen."

The booing was making every window in the building rattle as Natalya took to the stage. She was an oddly beautiful girl, with long straight blonde hair with a needlessly large bow on top. Actually, her whole outfit seemed strange. Jeremy wasn't an expert of Eastern European women's fashion, but unless it had literally not changed in over 100 years, he was fairly certain that Natalya was hopelessly out of date. She wore a dark blue long-sleeved dress with a bow at her neck, and, amazingly, an apron. Unless she'd come straight from a shift re-enacting dinner time in a stately home, there was absolutely no reason to go around looking like a haunted porcelain doll. Especially when, from what Jeremy could figure out, she seemed to have a pretty decent figure under that ridiculous frock.

As soon as Natalya saw her brother, oblivious to the booing, she ran over to him. For the first time since they started filming, Ivan's composure slipped. He leapt out of his chair and frantically started backing off stage.

"Brother!" shrieked Natalya, still advancing on the terrified, quivering man who had managed to unnerve Jeremy so much just a moments ago, "Why must you deny our love in front of everyone here?"

Ivan was actually starting to edge towards the security guards. "Natalya, please, sit down and-"

Natalya broke into a sprint, and, before anyone could stop her, had flung her arms around her brother's neck. Ivan actually looked like he was about to burst into tears, and was desperately trying to prise her iron grip open.

"Brother, we do not need to be here with these idiot people. Just admit it, we love each other, we should be one! HEY! GET OFF ME!"

Jeremy watched in morbid fascination as a security guard managed to finally drag a thrashing Natalya off her brother. He then remembered that he was supposed to be the one hosting this carnival of dysfunction.

"Natalya, thanks for being on the show."

Natalya, now seated, and previous manic look replaced with a sullen death glare, merely glowered. "Your show is a parade of fools. I am disappointed in my brother's judgement on this matter, but I will forgive him."

Jeremy sighed. "Natalya, there's no point in beating around the bush here, so I'll get to the point. What on earth makes you think that marrying your brother, who clearly does not share your feelings, is a good idea?"

"Because we are in love. He denies it because of your idiotic notion of what constitutes a marriage, and does not wish to be mocked in our community, but the love is there."

Impressively, Ivan managed to muster up some courage. "Of course I love you Natalya, you are my little sister. But this is insane, I am not sexually attracted to you, and will never marry you. And you are stopping me from finding someone I _would_ want to marry-"

"Yes" interrupted Jeremy. "The bird incident." He crouched down in front of Natalya, ignoring the quiet sobbing coming from Katyusha's seat. "You killed an innocent animal to scare someone away from your brother. You, my friend, need psychiatric help."

The audience burst into applause. Natalya's gaze bored through him.

"You are a very stupid man. The bird was already dead when I found it. I merely put it to good use by stopping that Chinese imbecile from ruining Vanya's life-"

"You're the one ruining his life!" yelled Jeremy. "How is your brother supposed to form any meaningful relationships in his life when you go around threatening people and sending them dead birds?!"

Natalya looked at him as though he'd just suggested something unthinkable. "Why would he need anyone else? He has me."

Jeremy momentarily gave up trying to get through to her.

"Right, well, we've got a family friend in the audience, let's have a word with Toris." He walked over to the nervous man in the front row.

"Toris, thanks for being here today."

"You're welcome, Jeremy" he murmured, trying to avoid looking at the stage.

"Hello Toris!" called Ivan, sinister smile back in place. Natalya gave Toris the sort of look that could melt steel.

"Now, Toris, how long have you known Ivan and his sisters?"

Toris shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I got to know Ivan when I started working for him when he moved over here."

Ivan looked hurt. "Don't be silly, you make it sound as though we are merely colleagues!" He smiled brightly at Jeremy. "Toris is one of my best friends in all of the world."

Jeremy didn't think he'd ever seen someone so unhappy to be described as a friend.

"Um... yes. Ivan is a friend of mine. And obviously, I know his sisters through him."

"And what do you think of Natalya's behaviour towards her brother?"

Toris struggled for a moment, trying to think of a diplomatic way of wording his response. Eventually, he took a deep breath.

"I think that Natalya is a wonderful person, and any man would be very privileged to be with her, I really do. But maybe it is time for her to realise that her brother is not that man. Ivan is...um... capable of protecting himself. So... I think that maybe she should be giving other men a chance. I mean, I'm sure there's a man out there, maybe someone who knows her already, who would treat her with the respect and care she deserves. I think she would do well with someone as strong as Ivan, but not... well, related to her."

The audience burst into applause. _That guy's crush is as obvious as that girl's insanity _thought Jeremy.

"Thankyou very much Toris. Natalya, any thoughts?"

Natalya had been suspiciously quiet, the previous frown having been replaced with a look of quiet contemplation. She turned to Ivan.

"Brother? You really do not wish to marry me?"

Ivan looked exasperated. "Of course not. You're my little sister. I cannot stress this enough."

Natalya sighed. "Is it so wrong? I just want my brother to be happy."

Jeremy walked up to her. "There is nothing wrong with wishing him happiness, but demanding he marry you? That's sick. He's your own flesh and blood. He obviously loves you- AS A SISTER- but there's nothing more to it."

Natalya suddenly smiled. The effect was, frankly, terrifying.

"Then I shall move on. Brother, I am sorry for the trouble I have caused. I think that maybe there is a man who I could learn to trust."

Jeremy was astounded. This was the most anticlimactic end to a show ever. Was she even telling the truth? Then he noticed Toris in the audience, beaming. Of course. Finally. Jeremy didn't envy the young man, he could imagine sex with Natalya to be harrowing, at best, but he seemed happy enough.

Ivan managed a shaky sigh of relief. Katyusha leaned over and squeezed his shoulder with a watery smile. Jeremy turned back to the camera.

"Well, that's all we've got time for today, Natalya, you go that way and Graham will have a word with you, and Ivan and Katyusha, you go that way. Join us tomorrow when we'll be talking to guests whose teenage siblings are out of control."

The room was still for a moment, then the stage manager gave the signal. Jeremy sighed in relief, determined to get in his dressing room before Ivan could remember his threat from earlier.

_Later..._

Jeremy was alone in his dressing room, waiting out the hoards of unwashed shouting machines from the audience. They had an annoying tendency to grab him after the show and start regaling him with tales of which former guests they'd found the most entertaining. He was just about to reach for the Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper when the lights all went out. His blood froze in his veins.

"It's just a blown fuse" he muttered to himself. "Nothing more."

He was about to get up and walk to the door, when he felt fingers softly brush against his neck. _Oh fuck._

"Er... Ivan?" No answer. "Ivan, if you heard what I said earlier, I'm very sorry, I really am, I was joking, it wasn't a funny joke, I meant no disrespect to you or your family, please, just put the light back on and..."

"Wrong person" whispered a female voice in his ear. Somehow, Jeremy doubted that it was Sarah the makeup girl.

"Natalya? What are you-"

He stopped when he felt lips press against his, then yelped when his assailant sunk her teeth into his lower lip.

"Toris was right, Mr Kyle. I do need a man who isn't my brother. A strong man. A man who can control the peasants he comes into contact with." Jeremy felt icy fingers caress his face. "You can deal with me, Mr Kyle. My brother would have locked himself in the bathroom by now, crying like little girl. I see that now."

Jeremy gulped.

"Mr Kyle, let us become one."

The resulting scream of "_SECURITYYYYYYYYYYY!" _could be heard outside in the smoking area. Ivan heard the shrill sound and happily squeezed Toris' shoulder. "Toris, today has been a success!" he announced cheerfully, stubbing his cigarette out with the toe of his boot.

Toris could only nod.

"After all" Ivan continued "She is somebody else's problem now, da?" He grinned like a shark. "I think they would make a lovely couple, don't you? I truly cannot think of a man more deserving of my sister than Mr Kyle."

_**Author here. Again. Sorry it took a while to get this chapter done, work's been a bit busy lately. Anyway, it was fun to write, which is probably how it ended up being so bloody long. **_

_**Consume! Conform! Obey! Review! And hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take too long to get up.  
**_


	8. My Sister Is Out Of Control!

_I do not own Hetalia or The Jeremy Kyle Show. My job is infinitely more boring than personifying nations/bellowing at the poor.  
_

_**Chapter 7: "My Sister Is On A Path To Destruction!"**_

"Well, the scabbing was a bit hard to cover, so was the hickey, but I think that should be OK, nothing the editing team can't deal with." Sarah the make-up girl finished dabbing concealer on the spot where Jeremy's lip had been bitten by yesterday's sexually aggressive guest, and removed the paper bib protecting his suit. Jeremy shook his head.

"I'm just glad she's still in a fucking police cell, the lunatic. I still reckon the only reason her brother didn't kneecap me is because he was enjoying a night out without her stalking him and trying to fuck him. Fucking weird family."

Sarah couldn't help but smile. "So how long did it take security to get to you, anyway?"

"Too bloody long. Tell you what, that girl is insanely strong. Guess they make them out of sterner stuff out there, given their diet of vodka and...bears."

Sarah bit back a giggle. "You think they eat bears out there?"

"Shut up. Probably. Even if most of those commies don't, that family probably do."

"You do know that the USSR was dis-"

"I don't care. Save your PC rubbish for the Guardian website. Today, we've got more fucking messed up foreign families, although I guess at least this time it's just people moaning about their teenage brat siblings."

"And where do the latest guests on Jeremy Kyle's International Dysfunction Showcase hail from?"

Jeremy scowled. "You think you're so bloody clever, don't you? _Oh, I went to University to learn how to put make-up on, aren't I so fucking progressive? _Anyway, in answer to your question, Switzerland. Some joyless, fondue-slurping, goat-shagging yodeller reckons his little sister's been acting up. You know, like every other sixteen-year-old ever. Anyway, I've got to make at least one of them look like an unreasonable arsehole, bollock them, the usual. Honestly, the country of the Nobel Prize and they're still incapable of keeping teenagers in check?"

"The Nobel Prize is a Swed-"

"Shut up. Anyway, we've later got an Oriental lot on, and if you tell me that's considered offensive or un-PC or racist now, I swear I will gag you with your own sponges, clear?"

Sarah the make-up girl set her mouth in a grim, straight line. "Clear."

"Good. Anyway, I'm off. Keep an eye out for any shady Russians hanging around, I don't want that mad bint's brother exacting his revenge."

"Actually, Leah reckons she saw the brother in Tesco last night, dragging around that guy from the audience. You know those 1.5 litre bottles of vodka you can get? Apparently he had a trolley filled with those. Anyway, he seemed pretty happy to have a night away from her."

Jeremy shrugged. "I suppose you'd have to be. Maybe his dodgy family business owes me a favour now or something. I'll have to let him know next time I need someone killed. Bye, Sarah."

Sierra made a mental note to get one of the runners to spit in his latte.

"Good morning, and welcome to The Jeremy Kyle Show. Today, we'll be meeting guests who have taken on the responsibility of caring for their teenage siblings, but claim that they struggle with their out of control behaviour."

Most of the audience nodded in empathy.

"Our first guest today says that he once had a close bond with his younger sister Lili, but lately, her behaviour has been intolerable. He says that she lies to him, sneaks around behind his back, neglects her studies, and has fallen in with a bad crowd. He's worried that she's throwing away her future, and wants to make sure that she makes the right decision. Ladies and gentlemen, let's give Vasch a big welcome."

A blond-haired young man in an odd white beret who looked like he had never smiled in his life marched onto the stage, gave Jeremy a curt nod, and took a seat.

"Vasch, thanks for being on the show. Now, you're here today because you're worried about your sister Lili, correct?"

Vasch nodded, frowning as he scanned the audience. Unsure as to what he was looking for, Jeremy continued.

"Why don't you tell us a bit about Lili and why you're so concerned?"

Still eyeballing the audience with a steely gaze, Vasch cleared his throat. "First, I want to ensure that you are not going to mistreat or disrespect my sister in any manner, clear?"

Jeremy stared at him for a moment. "Vasch, I assure you, we just want what's best for Lili. We are certainly not going to disrespect or mistreat her."

"Hm." Vasch narrowed his eyes and continued. "Lili is very important to me. I have always put her first, and will continue to do so until one or both of us is dead."

"That's... very admirable."

"Yes, it is. Anyway, Lili has always been well-behaved, occupied with her studies, her teacher says she's a model pupil."

Jeremy frowned. "Just one teacher?"

"Yes. Me. I home school her."

Jeremy was about to say something, but a steely glare from his guest stopped him in his tracks. Vasch continued.

"Recently, Lili has been socialising with some of our neighbours. I have always advised her not to, and trained her on home security. I have a firearms license, which is common knowledge in our area."

Jeremy stared at him in disbelief. "You own a gun?"

Vasch nodded. "I own a double-barrelled shotgun. Not the most effective, but no-one's ever tried to trespass on my property, so it serves a purpose. Plus, this country has ridiculously restrictive gun control laws. Back in Switzerland, I would be within my rights to take my gun shopping with me-"

"Well, you're not in Switzerland" snapped Jeremy. "Now, how exactly has Lili been acting out? You mentioned to our research team that there was an issue where some money went missing-"

"Yes. Lili is supposed to be saving money for university. She works for a paintballing company, and her money goes directly into a savings account."

Jeremy nodded. "Very sensible girl."

Vasch glared at him. "Of course she is. You know, you shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking."

"And YOU shouldn't be using guns to intimidate people, or being so rude to people who are trying to help!" Jeremy barked at his guest.

The audience clapped, having failed to warm to the man on stage. Vasch shook his head. "What is wrong with these people? Are they going to let me speak or not?"

Jeremy attempted to regain some power over the situation. "So, you were saying about money going missing?"

Vasch nodded. "I was looking over her statements, and noticed that there was a substantial amount of money missing from her savings account. She denied taking it out at first, but then admitted the truth. She won't tell me why she took money out of her account, but considering she's supposed to be saving up to go to university-"

"And you think this has something to do with her new friends?"

"Stop interrupting. And they're not her friends, they're our neighbours. And I don't trust them to be a good influence on her."

Jeremy nodded. "I see. Well, join us after the break, when we'll be speaking to Lili, and hearing her side of the story. Don't go away."

As soon as the stage manager gave the signal, Jeremy stormed over to Hannah. He forgot what she did exactly, other than consume her weight in Danish pastries (according to Sarah the make-up girl, she actually greeted the Danish guest from the other day with "Nice to meet you, I'm a big fan of your work"- Jeremy suspected that she wasn't talking about her admiration of Danish industrial production).

"Hannah!"

She glanced up, wiping some flaky crumbs off her chin. "Mr Kyle! How's it-"

"Hannah, please tell me that this bloke's sister is a violently unstable crack whore."

Hannah was pulling a face not unlike that of a dog staring at its own reflection. "Umm..."

"Because this guy is a bloody nightmare. He's rude, he's unlikeable, and the only way of getting anyone to sympathise with him would be if his sister's some slapper with an ASBO."

"I wouldn't know, Mr Kyle. I'm in Aftercare, you want Research. You could try Liz?"

Jeremy sighed in exasperation. "Thanks for your help, Hannah. Enjoy your clogged arteries."

"It's a Danish."

Jeremy considered staying to insult the woman further, but instead pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and went to find Liz. Today, she was explaining something to a runner.

"So really, we need to make sure that we sustain a level of-"

"Liz."

The runner dutifully looked at his feet as though Jeremy happened to be a deity who was just passing through.

"Jeremy, this is Jamie, he's one of our-"

"Yes, he's a fucking runner, I get it. Jamie, go and get me a latte. No sugar or you're out on your ear. Clear?"

Jamie nodded and fled.

"Liz, I don't know what goes on when you're picking guests, but you've been doing a fucking horrible job so far this week."

Liz arched an eyebrow. "What makes you say that? Once Editing are through with the footage, they'll be perfect."

"They're impossible to deal with! At least our usual guests respect me! What am I supposed to do with that miserable prick out there? Keeps bleating at me to stop interrupting, how am I supposed to make the audience cheer for him? His sister would have to be a fuck-up of Jodie Marsh proportions to make him look reasonable!"

Liz shrugged. "Maybe you're looking for your designated prick in the wrong place."

"Cheers Obi Wan, now how about some actual help?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, how long have you been doing this show now? Maybe his sister's not the bad one. Maybe he's the prick. Maybe you don't have to make him look like the reasonable one."

Jeremy slapped her clipboard out of her hands, fuming as subtly as he was able.

"Liz, you're in Research. And you seriously don't know what kind of people watch this show? I'm not trying to reach some demographic of teenagers who need to stick up for themselves! That's the last thing this country needs! I appeal to middle-aged bints whose kids have already been in prison at least twice, or stupid grandparents who keep their life savings under their mattress and are surprised when their skaghead grandkids make off with it! The only people under twenty who watch this show are students, for fuck's sake. And don't think I don't know that they think it's funny-"

"-Why do you care? As long as you've got at least one person to shout at-"

Jeremy put his face in his hands. "You really don't understand, do you? I'm supposed to be both the voice of reason and a fucking gentleman. It's harder to look like either when I'm bollocking a sixteen-year-old girl, but if I side with her, I've lost the support of the usual people who watch this show. So far this week, I've had people walk off without even leaving any usable footage, I've had to deal with perverts, I've been stuck with the most belligerent sods you could find, and then yesterday, I was assaulted by that mad bitch who wanted to shag her own brother! So you can understand if it seems like I'm a bit fucked off with your idiotic method of choosing guests this week."

The stage manager was getting everyone back in position. Liz merely smiled. "Well, consider it a challenge. The show's getting stale anyway."

Jeremy was going to unleash the extent of his fury on her when the stage manager pretty much hauled him into position and started counting down on her fingers. He could see Jamie the runner near the back, holding his latte and looking unsure as to what to do with it.

The latte was going over the slow little bastard's head as soon as it was time for a break.

"Good morning, and welcome back. Now, before the break, we met Vasch, who says that his sister Lili has been out of control-"

"-She has never been out of control. Just in need of guidance." Vasch pointed out. Jeremy wanted to remind him of his own hatred of being interrupted, but had to continue.

"Anyway, Vasch says that she's fallen in with the wrong crowd, and a significant amount of her savings have mysteriously gone missing. We've heard his side of the story, now please welcome Lili to the show."

The audience applauded as the adolescent hellraiser they'd been waiting for walked onto the stage. Except she looked positively angelic. Unlike her brother, she had a pleasant smile on her face. She was dressed in a neatly-pressed green dress, and, when she took a seat, crossed her ankles like she'd just been beamed onto the stage straight from Victorian England. The only real similarity between the two siblings was hair style, and she had tied a ribbon in her own blonde hair.

"Lili, thanks for being on the show. Now, you've obviously heard why Vasch is concerned, any thoughts?"

Lili nodded. "Thank you for having us on the show, Mr Kyle. And with all due respect to my big brother-"

"Talk to him, sweetheart, not me."

"Yes. Um, Vasch, I appreciate all you do for me, I really do, but I think you may be overreacting."

Vasch glared at her. "I am _not_ overreacting. Your grades have slipped-"

"Only in Economics! I was never very good at it anyway-"

"It's an important subject! And you know I'd help if you were struggling with it, but you spend all your time with those idiot neighbours-"

"They're not idiots! They're my friends!"

Jeremy felt the need to interject.

"Now, about the neighbours, Vasch says he's worried they're a bad influence?"

Lili gave her brother an exasperated look. "Vasch, have you even spoken to them? They're just kids. Raivis is a couple of years younger than me! Peter's twelve!"

"So why spend so much time with them?"

"Because who else can I spend time with?"

Vasch suddenly looked at the floor. He seemed... hurt? Lili's facial expression softened.

"Vasch, you're my brother, and you know I love you, but I wish I had friends. I can't just talk to you forever. I get lonely sometimes, and just want to talk to someone less..."

Lili's voice trailed off and she found a sudden interest in her shoes. Jeremy noticed that Vasch's lips were trembling.

"So what you're saying, Lili, is that you think Vasch is maybe being too protective, correct?"

Lili nodded, then gasped and shook her head. "No! I understand why he worries, I just think that maybe, if he met my friends-"

"I don't need to! Raivis knows that Russian thug, you don't need to get mixed up in that-"

"He's a family friend! His brother works for him, you can't blame Raivis for that!"

Jeremy briefly wondered if Vasch was talking about the same Russian thug he'd dealt with yesterday, or if Russia just produced a lot of thugs in general.

"And how can you have a problem with Peter? He's just a kid!"

"That little shit was in my garden!"

"Four years ago! He was playing pirates! The only reason he didn't set his brother on you was because he thought you were joining in when you chased him off with a plank of wood!"

Some sort of alert went off in Jeremy's mind. "So you come on this show, complaining about how much of an out of control monster your sister is, and you're the one intimidating people with guns and chasing children with sticks?"

Vasch's gaze could melt through steel. "I am on this show because I'm worried for my sister."

"Yes, but from what you've said so far, all she's done is hung around with people whose relatives you don't like!"

"I think you're forgetting the money issue."

Jeremy could have slapped himself. "Of _course_ I'm not forgetting the money issue, I was just getting to that." He turned to Lili. "Now Lili, Vasch was saying that quite a substantial amount of money has gone missing from your University fund, is that right?"

Lili nodded.

"And you have admitted to withdrawing the money, but haven't said what it's for?"

Lili looked ready to cry. Even Jeremy felt sorry for her. Vasch, meanwhile, was sweating profusely, and looking terrified.

"Lili, please, just tell me. Do you owe someone money? Is it drugs? If it's drugs, I can move some funds around, get you to rehab-"

"Vasch, be quiet." For once, Vasch didn't baulk at being interrupted and just stared at the floor.

Lili looked utterly lost.

"Just tell us what you did with the money, sweetheart" said Jeremy, secretly hoping it WAS drugs.

"Well..." Lili's eyes twitched back and forth across the judgemental audience, then to her brother, who looked genuinely devastated. It was time to tell the truth.

"I got Vasch a birthday present!" she managed to squeak.

"AHA! So you- wait, excuse me?" Jeremy was dumbfounded.

"It's Vasch's birthday next week. I got him a birthday present. It-" tears started flowing down Lili's cheeks. "It was supposed to be a surprise, that's all. I thought maybe he wouldn't still be checking my statements after all these years. And it was only £18-"

Jeremy felt like spitting. "Eighteen pounds. _That's_ what you consider a substantial amount of money?" He whirled around to glare at Vasch. "A teenage girl takes eighteen pounds out of her bank account and you assume she's up to no good?"

Vasch sat up straight. "If you look at it in terms of long-term interest-"

"No. You have wasted my time, and the time of the people in the audience. Your little sister has bought you a birthday present, and you thought it was a sign of her going off the rails? You need to take a good look at yourself, my friend."

The audience applauded hesitantly, unused to coming down on the side of the authority figure.

"And you." Jeremy spoke to Lili, who still looked like she expected the audience to attack at any moment. "It's not much money, but how do we know you're telling the truth?"

Lili cleared her throat and nodded towards one of the people backstage. A runner swiftly brought her a beautifully wrapped gift. She got up, and presented it to Vasch.

"I know it's a few days early, but thought you might want it now. It's not much, I just..." her voice trailed off and she sat back down. Vasch stared at the parcel in his lap. It was wrapped in red paper with white ribbon, making it look surprisingly like the Swiss flag.

Jeremy glared at him. "So, are you going to open it, or are you going to keep on assuming the worst of your sister?"

Someone in the audience started chanting. "Open it! Open it! Open it!" The rest of the audience joined in, and, before long, Vasch tore the paper off the gift in frustration, only to find...

Pyjamas.

Soft, pink, cotton pyjamas with a white lace trim.

It took roughly two seconds for the audience to burst out laughing, assuming it to be a joke gift. Vasch unfolded them, running his fingers over the buttons and lace trim. Suddenly, he shocked everyone present as his face broke into a smile.

"They're... pyjamas."

Lili nodded shyly. "I know they're a bit feminine, but let me explain. They were forty pounds. I got them for eighteen. So that's a saving of-"

"Fifty five percent. More than double." Vasch seemed to glow with pride, which was unusual for a man presented with a pair of pyjamas that wouldn't look out of place on a middle-aged female Marks & Spencer customer.

Jeremy stared at him. "I'm sorry, but... _what?_"

Vasch looked up at him. "The best gift for me is one worth more than was paid for it. If the fifty percent mark is broken, all the better. It's..." he took a breath. "It's a quirk of mine."

Jeremy nodded, feeling completely baffled.

"So, you don't think your sister is ruining her life?"

Vasch shrugged. "Honestly, I was mostly worried about the missing money. I'm still not happy about her hanging around those neighbour boys, and if I hear anything about her dating either of them-"

"Vasch, I'm not interested in either of them."

"Good. But... I suppose I could let this slide. Let you have some time to yourself. I still don't approve, but as long as you stay out of trouble..."

Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief.

"OK, so Vasch, you're going to get off your sister's case and let her have more of a social life, correct?"

Vasch shrugged. "Fine. But if I hear one word of-"

"And Lili, you promise not to abuse your brother's newfound trust for you?"

Lili nodded firmly. "I give my word."

Jeremy turned back to the camera. "So Vasch, you're going to give your sister a bit more independence, and Lili, you could probably do with being a bit more open with your brother, are we agreed?"

Both siblings nodded.

"Excellent. Vasch, you go that way, Lili, you go that way. Aftercare will have a word with both of you."

He turned back to the camera. "Join us after the break, when our next guest will be confronting his younger siblings over their lack of respect, and, more importantly, possible illegal activity. Don't go away."

_Later..._

Jeremy was looking over his notes, having bid his farewell to Vasch, who was inexplicably already clad in his new pyjamas, and hassling a producer over the finer points of the hotel room being provided by the show. He was just leaving his dressing room, when he noticed a small, prettily-wrapped gift at his feet. Assuming it was an afterthought from Lili (although, where would she have got the money from without her brother finding out?), Jeremy picked it up, and opened it.

As soon as he cracked the box open, there was a blinding flash, a bang, and the room filled with smoke. Coughing, Jeremy staggered out into the corridor as the smoke alarm went off, cueing everyone in the building to stampede outside, whether in the direction of the designated meeting point or not. Looking at the still-smouldering box, Jeremy couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with his next guests.

_**Author here! Hi. So... er... sorry about how long it's taken to update this. Work's been hectic, I've had some medical gubbins going on (weird fact, the machine they used for the ECG pronounced me dead; would've been nice of someone to tell me), it's been my other half's birthday, and my in-laws keep showing up uninvited on my doorstep and wasting my time. Seems like the universe has really been against me writing this chapter. I promise, I'll make the next one a good one. Spoiler alert; let's see how Jeremy deals with China and his overly-energetic younger siblings.**_


	9. My Siblings Don't Show Me Any Respect!

_I do not own Hetalia, The Jeremy Kyle Show, or Aniki's breasts. _

_**Chapter 8: "My Siblings Don't Show Me Any Respect!"**_

Jeremy was hiding out in the make-up room when Sarah the make-up girl came in for his touch up.

"So, the last lot weren't too bad."

Jeremy gave an irritated grunt of recognition. "Yeah, they were great. Nothing the show needed more than gun nuts getting excited over being given women's pyjamas."

Sarah laughed. "Oh come on, his face was a picture, wasn't it?" She frowned and evened out the powder on Jeremy's jawline.

"Something like that. Anyway, now I've got some Chinese guy who looks after his brothers and sister. Apparently they're a load of disrespectful little shits. One day, I'll improve ratings tenfold by having a section on the show in which people get the hiding they clearly deserve."

Sarah shrugged. "And what's to say they won't be perfectly reasonable and he won't be the bad guy in all of this?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Nah. They're not going to use that hook twice on the same show, that'd be ridiculous. Besides, you know how you didn't have to come and get me for my touch-up? That's because my fucking dressing room is now unusable for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, because of the exploding package thing?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Everyone does."

"Oh. Any ideas as to who's responsible? Because I'm guessing it's one of those little pricks I've got on next. According to my notes, one of them likes playing pranks."

Sarah frowned. "Do kids still do practical jokes? I thought it was all about cyber bullying and getting fingered in a KFC car park these days."

Jeremy couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. "So cynical for one so young. And yes, this one thinks he's Dennis the fucking Menace or something."

Sarah finished up and removed the paper bib from Jeremy's suit.

"So it's just the older one and him?"

"No, there's another brother who's an arrogant little shit and the standard bratty teenage girl. Feel sorry for the guy really, who'd want to take on teenagers? Honestly."

Sarah smiled. "Well, there must be a reason. Family loyalty or something."

"True. Anyway, better get going. I've got to somehow match the energy levels of four people who live off cats fried in MSG."

"I'm sure they don't eat-"

"Shut up. And they clearly do. Bye, Sarah."

This time, Sarah didn't even bother muttering "It's Sierra" as he left the room, having given up on anyone getting her name right.

"Good morning and welcome back. Now, our last guest was worried about his younger sister's rebellious behaviour-" Jeremy inwardly shuddered at having to describe purchasing hideous pyjamas as "rebellious", "But what happens when you have three teenage siblings under your roof and they won't co-operate? Our next guest says that he's looked after his brothers and sister since they moved here, but feels that they don't show him any respect. He says that they're rude, inconsiderate, disregard his opinion, and play potentially harmful tricks on him. Let's welcome Yao to the show."

For a moment, Jeremy thought that the research team were trying to make him look like an idiot as what appeared to be a reasonably attractive Chinese lady with long black hair walked on stage. He frowned as he noticed the lack of makeup and suspiciously flat chest. So was this a man, or...?

"Yao, thanks for being here" said Jeremy, shaking the man/woman's hand. He deduced from the lack of correction regarding gender (and the strong, calloused handshake) that Yao was most likely male.

"You are welcome, Mr Kyle." Yao shook his head in exasperation. "I'm at the end of my tether. These kids, they treat me with no respect whatsoever. You wouldn't think I was older than them-"

"-Yes, we'll get onto that in a minute" said Jeremy. "Now, it's three of your siblings that are causing problems, correct?"

Yao nodded. "Correct. I have other brothers and sisters, but they are older and don't live with me."

"Yes, we've got one of them in the audience, we'll be talking to Kiku later." Jeremy gestured towards a young man with a curiously blank facial expression. "Now, why don't you start by telling us a bit about Yong Soo?"

"Yong Soo... how can I describe him? He's annoying, for a start." The audience giggled.

"Aren't most younger brothers?" asked Jeremy with a grin.

"Yes, but he's a special example. He refuses to leave me alone when I'm busy, has no sense of personal space, he started working with me recently and takes credit for everything I do, and on top of that, he keeps grabbing my chest and implying I have breasts!" Yao narrowed his eyes. "He does this in front of people, including at work, and I worry that his unprofessional, immature attitude reflects poorly on me."

Jeremy's eyes were wide. What was it with his guests and incest that week?

"So you say that he molests you at work in front of your colleagues?"

Yao gave a weary nod. "It's embarrassing. He keeps shouting that my breasts belong to him. I don't know if he thinks it's funny or just likes humiliating me, but-"

Jeremy tried to cut across while remaining sympathetic. "Now, because time's a factor, we're going to try and sort this out with your brother now, alright?"

"I think that would be a good idea."

"OK, ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome Yong Soo to the show."

There was a kind of subdued booing from the audience as a young man with messy dark hair (featuring an odd curl that stood out from the side of his head) bounded onto the stage and headed straight for Yao.

"Aniki!" he yelled, grabbing his brother in an iron grip. The levels of sheer exhaustion on Yao's face had to break some sort of record as Yong Soo released him for a moment, only to then grab at his chest like a demented lobster.

Jeremy felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Er... Yong Soo."

Yong Soo turned his brother to the audience, grabbed his chest once again, and shouted "These belong to me, da ze!"

Jeremy had no idea what da ze meant, but he knew that this had to stop before his show turned into a sort of Oriental pantomime.

"YONG SOO!"

The boy stopped momentarily, and hastily backed off as he noticed the security guards approach. He plopped himself down into a chair and smiled brightly.

"Now, Yong Soo, do you agree with what Yao's been saying so far?"

Yong Soo remained oblivious. "I don't see the problem! Aniki and I work at the same design company, I give him all of the ideas and sometimes he helps executing them! We have a close working relationship."

Jeremy glared. "From the sounds of things, all you do is take credit for his ideas."

Yong Soo stubbornly shook his head. "Of course not! All of his great ideas originate from here." He pointed at his head proudly.

"And the grabbing him constantly and stating that you own him. You don't think for one moment that he could have legitimate concerns about that?"

Yong Soo shrugged cheerfully. "He is my aniki. It's my job to show the world that he's mine!"

Jeremy shook his head in bewilderment, thinking of how Natalya from yesterday was probably less unnerving than this hyperactive mess.

"Right, so Yao, what are you hoping to achieve today in terms of your relationship with your brother?"

Yao glared at his brother. "I want him to give me some credit for my hard work, and, more importantly, to give me my own personal space! He needs to grow up and realise that I am NOT his property-"

"But aniki!" protested Yong Soo. Jeremy spun around to fix him with his sternest look.

"You speak when I say you can. Whose show is this?" He pointed at his glowing name above the stage, looking at his guest expectantly. Yong Soo missed the point completely.

"Confrontational talk shows actually originated in my country, did you know that? I'm the one who suggested-"

"QUIET!" bellowed Jeremy. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, he turned to Yao.

"Now, when you speak to Graham and aftercare, you'll be dealing a bit more with Yong Soo, but would you like to tell us a bit about your sister Mei?"

Yao nodded. "She's by far not the worst of the three, but she shows me no respect at all. If I try to discipline the boys, she jumps in and tells me that I'm in the wrong! She's so immature, all she does is gossip on her cell phone, paint her nails, cut up her clothes, which I PROVIDED FOR HER!" Yao seemed to be getting more irate, oddly delicate hands clutching at his seat. He took a deep breath.

"She ignores everything I say, disregards my opinions by just calling me Old Man, she stays out late, she's a brat!" He sighed. "I sometimes wonder if I spoiled her."

The audience murmured in sympathy. Jeremy nodded. "Well, we do have to be conscious of time, so let's get Mei on the show, ladies and gentlemen."

The booing was more pronounced this time, as a very pretty teenage girl with long dark hair strutted out from backstage. Jeremy couldn't help but note that, when it came to bratty children (in this case, siblings), girls seemed to fare a lot worse than boys. She rolled her eyes at the audience.

"There's no need to be assholes." And with that, Mei slumped in her seat, pulled a phone from her pocket, and proceeded to start tapping at the screen.

Jeremy was horrified. Didn't the backstage team usually take phones off guests? Then again, this girl was wearing a very elaborate dress that looked as though it had at least thirty places in which to hide a phone.

Still though. The disrespect. He found himself sympathising with Yao more than any other guest this week. He stormed over to Mei and yanked the offending phone from her grasp. Mei glared at him.

"Hey! Give that back!"

"No. Young lady, you are going to listen to your older brother and listen to me."

Mei shrugged. "Can't I just listen to one of you? There's no point in listening to two old men when I can just listen to one."

Jeremy gave Yao a helpless look, for once speechless. Yao rubbed his temples.

"You see what I put up with? She's impossible. I could tell her the secret to living forever and she wouldn't listen."

"You probably do know that secret, old man" muttered Mei. Jeremy tried the age-old "slamming his hand down on the seat of the offending guest's chair" technique.

"Hey." Mei glanced up, uninterested. "You, young lady, are an ungrateful little madam who needs to listen to her brother more. This man puts a roof over your head! He buys you food and clothes, and apparently you cut up the clothes?"

Mei stood up so suddenly that Jeremy stumbled backwards.

"I don't just cut them up, I improve them! I still wear the clothes, I just adjust them first. I'm studying Fashion and Textiles, why are you so surprised that I can alter clothes?"

Jeremy glanced over at Yao. "This true?"

Yao gave a weary nod. "I was hoping she'd go into website design, keep up in this changing world better than I did, but no, she just wants to make pretty dresses-"

"Oh my God, you are so patronising!" yelled Mei, now apparently fully invested in the conversation.

Jeremy tried to regain control of the situation.

"Yao, what do you want to achieve with Mei?"

"I want her to start showing me some respect and actually making an effort with our family. She barely even eats with us, she just says she's not hungry then I find her raiding the fridge at night while still talking on that stupid chatter box... thing." Yao gestured towards the phone in Jeremy's hand. "It's like she doesn't want to spend any time with us, like she wants to pretend she's not one of us. Although, compared to Li Xiao..."

Jeremy nodded. "Yes, and we'll be meeting Li Xiao after the break. Don't go away ladies and gentlemen."

As soon as the stage manager gave the signal, Mei and Yong Soo rounded on their brother.

"What the hell, Yao? You drag us on TV so you can bitch about us to the whole nation?"

"I told you why we were going on this show, aru! You weren't paying attention, probably too obsessed with twitting on that stupid lump of plastic-"

"It's tweeting! Oh my God, you are SUCH an old man!"

"Stop calling me an old man! You are such a brat-"

"-No, you're a brat! You bitch about people not wanting to spend time with you, then you drag Yong Soo on this stupid show as well when he's the only one who seems to want to hang around with you and your ancient-"

"Aniki, Mei's right, you really need to show more appreciation-"

"- I DO NOT NEED TO SHOW APPRECIATION TO ANY OF YOU!"

Jeremy shook his head, and gave Mei's phone to a member of the aftercare team with instructions to give it back to her once filming was over. Safe in the knowledge that no-one would be rutting in it this time, he retreated to the stock cupboard with the disabled smoke alarm.

"Welcome back. Now, before the break, we met Yao, who says that his younger brothers and sister are disrespectful and don't appreciate everything he does for them. He says they belittle him, play dangerous pranks, and, in the case of our next guest, even practise illegal activity."

The audience gasped, assuming that the worst of the ingrate siblings had been saved for last.

"Yao, why don't you tell us a bit about Li Xiao?"

Yao scowled. "Li Xiao is by far the worst. Not only does he ignore me and belittle me, but he keeps aggravating me by setting up elaborate pranks- if only he had put that much effort into his schoolwork! And he won't get a real job, he just sells stupid stuffed toys of characters he didn't even design off a stall! And on top of that, I found out recently that everyone he knows calls him Leon. LEON! Why would you go by that when you already have a name?"

Jeremy breathed out slowly. At least this one actually had a job, although it probably fell foul of several copyright laws.

"Well, we'll be speaking to Li Xiao in a moment, but first, we've got Yao's brother Kiku in the audience-" A sound guy maneuvered the boom so that the mic was just above Kiku's head- "-So let's see what he has to say. Kiku, thanks for being on the show."

Kiku bowed his head uneasily, taking care not to abandon his manners. He was a small man with chin-length black hair and an unreadable facial expression.

"Thank you, Mr Kyle."

"Now, Kiku, you don't live with Yao, but you're aware of the situation?"

Kiku nodded. "I know that he feels that Yong Soo, Mei and Li Xiao show no respect to him. Other than that, I tend to stay out of things."

Jeremy nodded. "And do you think they can come to an understanding?"

Kiku just stared politely at his feet. Jeremy shifted uncomfortably.

"Thanks Kiku for being on the show. Now, let's welcome Li Xiao and see if he and Yao can work out their differences."

The audience didn't even bother to applaud as a young man with thick eyebrows and a solemn expression calmly walked onto the stage. Yao frowned back at him. Li Xiao merely nodded and sat down.

"Li Xiao, welcome to the show."

"Leon."

Jeremy gave an irritated sigh. "Why do you go by Leon now?"

Li Xiao/Leon shrugged. "It's easier to remember."

Yao got up from his seat. "No, it is because you're-"

Li Xiao finished off his sentence. "Trying to deny my heritage", yeah, I hear that a lot."

Jeremy felt the need to interject.

"Li Xiao-"

"Leon."

"Fine, Leon. Yao's mentioned that you have a tendency to" Jeremy moved his fingers into quote marks "_play tricks_" on him a lot, is that true?"

Leon suppressed a smile as Yao jumped in. "They're not even tricks, they're criminal damage, aru! I can't go one day without something in my house exploding or breaking or falling on my head! It's immature and he could be turning his talents to so much more-"

Yao trailed off as he realised that Leon was mocking him and even lip synching his words perfectly. Jeremy approached him in annoyance.

"I suppose you think this is hilarious, don't you?"

Leon merely blinked before saying "Maybe."

"And that's another thing! You never answer questions properly!" exclaimed Yao in annoyance. "I ask you where you were all day, and you just say _Maybe I had stuff to do, _or _Wouldn't you like to know_. And it's always the worst case scenario!" Yao turned to Jeremy. "He's always been like this. When he was twelve, he broke our neighbour's window. I sent him around to apologise and clean up, and he kept setting off firecrackers! He nearly gave him a heart attack-"

"Kirkland's kind of an idiot, though" mused Leon.

"You're missing the point!"

Mei rolled her eyes. "He was being a jerk though. It was a broken window, the way he kept complaining, you'd think Leon had broken his stupid tea set or something-"

"He did break his favourite tea set! By blowing it up!"

Jeremy felt the need to interject.

"All of you, shut up!"

The siblings briefly fell quiet. Jeremy took advantage of the absence of bickering.

"Look, I'll ask you in turn: why do you think Yao gets on your case? Yong Soo?"

"He's secretly jealous of my ideas! I don't mind though, he's still my aniki, right?" He proceeded to reach out and grab Yao's non-existent left breast.

"Mei?"

"He can't remember being less than about four thousand years old."

"Right. And Leon?"

Leon pursed his lips. "No idea. PMT?"

The audience giggled, despite themselves. Jeremy found his temper beginning to wear thin.

"It's because he CARES!" he bellowed at his guests... only to realise that none were listening. Yao simply had his face in his hands, Yong Soo was shaking him by the shoulder, telling him to cheer up, Mei had somehow reacquired her phone from somewhere and was taking pictures of the studio audience ("I can use this as inspiration for... I don't know, poverty chic or something"), and, most worryingly of all, Leon had disappeared altogether. Jeremy felt his stomach churn. He looked helplessly at the security staff just as all the lights in the studio went out. There was a brief moment of silence in the darkness, then a small pop.

_Power cut_ thought Jeremy. _Blown fuse. Something like that._

Seconds later, there was a loud hissing, no, rattling... popping noise? Jeremy could only remember hearing it on two occasions: once when making microwave popcorn, and the other on...

Oh, shit.

Any pleasant memories of bonfire night were promptly destroyed as bright red and orange sparks shot up on either side of the stage, causing security to dive for safety. The audience started screaming and running for the exits as the smoke alarm went off. Jeremy remained rooted to the spot, either out of shock, or sheer exhaustion from the week, watching his guests shriek and stampede into the audience. It was then that he heard a soft voice by his ear.

"It's OK, it's perfectly safe."

Jeremy glared at Leon, who had appeared by his side as if by magic. The boy looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding towards the smouldering backstage area.

"So... this Graham. Is he, like, a shrink or something?"

It took Jeremy all of his strength to just walk away instead of grabbing the fire extinguisher off one of the braver security staff and beating Leon to death with it.

Jeremy felt that he had to apologise to Yao for letting the situation get out of control. Not because he particularly cared (he was starting to wonder if Yao and his clan actually enjoyed fighting), but because at least this way, no-one could say that he didn't apologise personally. Yao had seemed more resigned and mildly annoyed than anything. It would appear that this was somewhat of a regular occurrence for him.

Then, as the barrier of the car park lifted, and Jeremy drove away from the studio, he couldn't help but slow down as he witnessed what looked like a brawl in the street, despite his instincts practically screaming at him to keep driving in case his nice car got damaged. What made him double take was the truly bizarre sight of Yao administering some physical punishment to his brothers while Mei, clearly amused, used her phone to film a video of a world-weary Chinese man who put so much emphasis on maturity beating the tar out of his younger brothers with a rather familiar-looking giant stuffed cat.

"Drink" thought Jeremy, and sped on to the nearest pub.

_**Hi folks, author here again. Man, it's hard writing the Asian countries (China aside) when they barely feature in the anime (I had to go off a load of scanlations and a bit of help from TV Tropes, for the most part). So... sorry for any OOC-ness. **_

_**I've got two chapters to go (and an epilogue) before I've finished this story, so if there are any particular characters/scenarios you'd like to see, by all means let me know and I'll have a think about it. Reviews and such make me happy. If I want to get more of them, I should probably stop posting chapters so late at night. This is what happens when you work twelve hour days, I guess. **_

_**But yes. Enjoy! Over and out. **_


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